An Open Letter To The White People Who Love Me But Also Love Whiteness
By: Karen Leonard
Tags: Race Relations, BlackLivesMatter, Race, Storytelling, White Supremacy

Photo by Kate Macate on Unsplash

I love you. I need you to know that before I begin. Because this is painful and I am asking us to step into the hard with no real direction out. This is not goodbye. At least it does not have to be. This is a crossroads. You love me and you are married to your whiteness and we cannot exist like this any longer. So either you must get a divorce or we must become braver apart than we are together.

We are something, you and I. Never nothing. Never not formerly something great. Now we are broken, for lack of a better word. I took a chisel to myself and tried to chip pieces off so I could fit in with your metamorphosis and my jagged edges only ended up cutting deeply. This is not to say the fault lies entirely with me, this is just to say that I know we both hurt each other; You when you asked me to show up only at the capacity in which you could stay comfortable with injustices against my people. And me, when I asked you to die before you felt ready. And for clarification, I was not begging for physical death but rather killing of identity in false superiority. After all, what is whiteness besides a construct of superiority meant to dominate everything it comes in contact with? And what else did you have when I burst the illusion you based your identity in?

I know I promised that we were going to stay together. But your whiteness is asking for my voice in exchange for this lie of goodness and I cannot remain in our space for any longer. I refuse to continue telling you that you are good while you are attempting to destroy me. In fact, to hell with goodness. Its loosely defined self is a false idol you bow to and I am not sure what heaven you are hoping to get into with your worship. I’m not sure humans were ever meant to be good any more than they were created to live. So, you said you were not racist because you are good. You say you don’t treat people of other races differently because you are good. You say you understand because you are good. And I’m saying you are not absolved of these accusations because you view yourself a certain way.

For the record, I strongly believe we are more than our worst mistakes and capable of incredible change. But at this moment we have what seems like a lifetime of separation and I do not consent to be a bridge any longer. I do not want to keep reaching across waters that you have little intention of trying to traverse. So when you are ready to find out what else you are besides white, let me know.

This is letting go — not of you but of us I thought we were. Of the something, you need us to be. I know it is the time because when you call my name I know you don’t mean me. I know because when I show up you ask me why I came together.

I did not want to write this. I did not want this to be about you. In fact, the next piece I envisioned about you was a love letter and an homage to this that we created(past tense, now). I wanted a memorial for our love and a statement of triumph. But I don’t know how we overcome this when your whiteness asks for my disappearance.

I guess this is another scar I pick up along the way. Please know you are not a wound. You are wholly human and I cannot reduce you to less. It would be unfair to do so. And maybe I wrote this whole letter unfairly. Maybe this isn’t the truth you know. But this is my pain. Do with it what you will.

Until later, my love.

May we meet again in an embrace that is big enough for all of us.