Maybe not the right words

I have felt compelled to write all week, but haven’t quite been able to find the words. Sometimes, you just have to say something and risk getting it wrong. My words will not save lives or upend four centuries of injustice, but here they are.

Black lives matter. The senseless yet very public murders of George Floyd, Ahmaud Arbery and Breonna Taylor, and the resulting actions and reactions, have made millions of additional Americans uncomfortable with the state of racial equity in our country.

Uncomfortable. And it’s about goddamn time.

We have to move beyond comfort and beyond privilege.

My privilege is that I can go out for a run; drive on a road; visit a store; go to sleep in my own bed, safe in the knowledge that I will survive to do it all again. That I don’t have to worry about my wife or my daughter if they do any of these mundane things.

I don’t know how to fix this. Nor do I think people of color should bear the additional burden of coming up with all of the answers. So in the meantime, I will continue listening and being curious. I will advocate for solutions when smarter people than I am propose them. I will share what I know. And I will continue to risk getting it wrong instead of always playing it safe.

Here is what I’ve been exploring this week:

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Eleven quick moments of coaching