Skin in the game

I’ve been thinking about race  for about a week - but it’s troubled me all my life.

It came roaring back with me again, after someone heard me quoting someone who’d used a certain term. My colleague said, ”Don’t use that word”. And,  instead of saying, “I’m sorry”, I covered my butt.

I changed the subject (or, I tried to). I started talking in circles. I rambled on, and it was all about me. And, that sat with me ‘til this morning, when I finally stopped in my tracks.

In that moment,  I was bothered - and embarrassed. I was taken aback. But what “bit” me  wasn’t not knowing better, but that somebody might not know me. Didn’t they know I’m a Liberal? Didn’t they know I was on “their side”?   That I voted for the party of Kennedy; always have, and always will?

I  worried so much about being seen, that I couldn’t  see - and hear - my friend. I forgot it wasn’t about me. I forgot to put “me” aside.

In covering my own skin, I forgot she had skin in this game.

Race is a prickly topic. It makes us shift in our seats. It follows us to our offices; to the polls, and to where we live. While I say I know how someone  feels, I can’t really be in their skin. I’ve never lived on “that” side of town. My son won’t be stopped for Driving while White. I’ve never translated for my mother, or been asked where I “really” come from.

And while I’m not a person of “privilege”, it  lives on my side of town.

So, what’ll I do the next time someone checks me? Truthfully, I’m not sure.  I’ll probably take a step back; slow down, and listen more. Words can wait .This is more than a game - and I have a lot to learn.