Empathy, action, and my white privilege

Every Sunday morning I put on a pot of coffee and organize my blog for the week. It’s Sunday morning as I write this for you now.

I was planning to publish a post today about the state of blogging. But I couldn’t concentrate on this material because my mind kept thinking of the dozens of powerful images of protest s that swept America this week.

Such a flood of emotions. I am so deeply moved. The blogging article will have to wait. There’s something else I have to say.

My white privilege

Five or six years ago, I read a profound article written by a senior executive at LinkedIn. I can’t find the original article, I can’t remember his name. I’m sorry for that.

This accomplished executive, an African American, explained in his post how he lived in an almost constant state of anxiety and fear. When he walked down the street of a neighborhood, women would cross to the other side. When he was in a high-end retail store, he would be tailed by sales associates and security guards. He was especially fearful of any potential interaction with law enforcement.

On a professional level, I felt a kinship with this man. We had a similar educational background. He had worked hard to rise to the top of a company I admire. We were husbands and fathers. We…