I follow her blog. She follows mine. We follow each other on Twitter. We are Facebook friends. Our relationship is complex. She is American. I am Indian. She is Christian. I am Hindu. She eats meat. I do not. She lives in the Southwest. I live in the Northeast. Neither friends nor immediate family, we are linked by our children. She gave birth to them. I raise them.
We have seen the devastation that racism can perpetrate when the hate embedded within it festers in silence at the margins of our society. But where does this sort of racism come from? I don't know that I have the answer, but I do have a particular, firsthand experience that may give some insight into the question.
Sometimes, my enthusiasm for writing has blinded me. Quite simply, I love to use words to share my experiences. If anyone tells me they've read one of my posts, I'm happy. If they say they enjoyed it, I'm thrilled. If they say they felt it like they were there, I'm floating. My pursuit of those emotions has, at times, caused me to overlook the feelings of others.