By Cindy Terlouw
For much of my life I could remain in my guilt, shame, fear, and stupidity. I could focus for a bit, but always found something else that would take my attention. I could say all the words and even convince myself that my love and compassion meant I was engaged assuming that was enough. I could support those who were doing the work and still remain, myself, on the sidelines. I could raise racially mixed children whom I love more than anything in the world and think that was sufficient. I could run a cultural diversity awareness program at the local high school, get all the facts to motivate the student body, and still, really (actually) do nothing.
And then suddenly my world changed. As the result of the deaths of people of color like George Floyd and Breonna Taylor and meaningful yet difficult confrontations by our own children of mixed background, I was convicted of my racism, my privilege and my white supremacy. It has been a painful process to really accept that simply by living as a white middle-class person, I knowingly and unknowingly support and benefit from a culture of white supremacy and all that it entails.
I keep hearing the words of Ibram Kendi, “If you are supporting a racist policy through your actions or inactions or expressing a racist idea, you are a racist.” Holy crap—not me. Please not me.
So I moved to respond to this present awareness through seminars, book studies, conversations, podcasts, and political involvement to become an active participant in the fight against racism and the advancement of antiracist policies that are equitable for all. This has been and continues to be a very difficult and personal experience. I identify and am embarrassed by my implicit and explicit bias. I examine my language, behaviors, and more.
I am not a leader at the state or national level, but I am committed to be impactful right here in Holland. I am examining where and how I spend my resources—shopping, dining, and more. I am seeking out companies run by women and women of color. I am striving to live out my desire to be a positive force for justice, equity, diversity, and inclusion. This work will continue for the rest of my life.
Dr. Cornel West states, “Never forget that justice is what LOVE looks like in public.” Micah 6:8 says, “What does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.”
For me, now is the time to step in, to move forward and stay uncomfortable. I have lost a lot of time, yet maybe I have a lot of time left. With the time I have left and for the sake of my children, our family, and this community, I commit to the life-long struggle towards racial justice and equity.