I want to say forgive me, but I actually don’t want any forgiveness.  At least, not in the usual sense.  Not in the way people usually begin a piece like this.  “Forgive me if I offend anyone” or “Forgive me for this long rant.”  

I tend to avoid political discussions in general.  I do this for many reasons, none of which can excuse the disengagement from something that is so important to who I am and what I do.  I have lived most of my life on the outskirts of political discussions.  Stepping my foot in once in a while, but quickly jumping back out.  This election wasn’t any different.  I tested the waters by engaging in a short discussion with a close friend.  She had invited my son and I to her family’s Easter celebration.  I was outside watching the kids when she came out to join me; the rest of the adults were inside.  It went something like this:

Friend: I had to escape it in there; they started talking about politics.

Me: Yeah, I try to avoid those conversations.

Friend: It can just get so ugly.

Me: (hesitating) My fear is…I just don’t want to find out that one of my friends supports Trump.  I just don’t understand how someone can support a man with so much hate.

Friend: Well I just can’t stand Hilary.  There is nothing about her I like and we obviously can’t trust her.

Me: I can see that; most people I know support Bernie.

Friend: I can’t support a socialist.

Me: (realizing that my fear is becoming a reality) ………………………………..

Friend: I know that a lot of what Trump says is not good; he’s a jerk.  I agree with that.  But if we could just look past his rhetoric I think he makes sense.

Me: (watching my child run and play in the backyard) ……………………………….

Friend: Want to help me set up the tables?

Me: Yes.

I had this conversation again.  And again.  And again, and countless times.  Not with the same friend, but others.  And while they were mostly white, they weren’t all white.  And here is where “forgive me” comes into play.  Forgive me for not saying what I should have said.  And this is what I should have said: “As a person of color, as the member of a family that has many colors in, as the mother of a child who has many colors in him, as an educator of students from all walks of life – countless countries and cultures, as a female, as a human, I can not look past his rhetoric.  I don’t have that privilege.  His rhetoric does not always apply to you and when it does, you have been raised to believe that you can look past it and things will still be fine.  I have been raised to look for these things and be wary of rhetoric; to understand that rhetoric is sign of things to come, and represents a mentality that directly impacts behavior and action because rhetoric is reflective of belief.  Not only do I refuse to overlook rhetoric, but I am insulted that you suggest I do such a thing.”  

It can be so tiring.  Why do we have to continually explain ourselves.  I still remember when I was a teenager and my mom took me to a workshop on race.  We were talking about the impact of segregation and the state of our schools today, and a black woman responded to something a white woman said, “You wake up every morning and you look in the mirror and you see a woman.  I wake up every morning and look in the mirror and I see a black woman.  I am reminded every day, every single day, that I am black.  You haven’t had that experience.  So don’t tell me I can just ‘let it go move past it.’”  The simple act of asking me to look past rhetoric that is insulting and harmful to me and those I love, as people of color, as women, shows your disconnect from the reality of what it means to be a person of color in this country.  And this is where we, once again, circle back to asking for forgiveness and what, “forgive me” really means.

When I say “forgive me,” I don’t want forgiveness for what I have to say.  I want forgiveness for not saying it earlier.