George Floyd lost his life at the hands of police on May 25th, 2020. Today, for the first time, nearly a month after his death, I’m choosing to say something about his death publicly. I decided not to speak out because I was afraid of getting the words wrong or misunderstood or saying something that would offend someone. Instead of speaking out about his death at the hands of police officers and the racial injustice that a large portion of the U.S. experiences, I chose not to say anything.
I am responsible for what I contribute to every situation in my life — and I want to take responsibility for my fear by not speaking out.
The Communities Project engages in leadership training and the idea that leadership starts with responsibility. In addressing racial inequity in my own life, I have not led. Likewise, in addressing racial inequality publically, I have not been responsible. And for my inaction, I want to take responsibility publicly.
I am responsible for what I’ve contributed to racial inequality in the world around me. I’m responsible for not truly taking the time to consider the meaning of racial inequality, how I have witnessed it, how I have ignored it, and what I have contributed to it. For example, during my career as a political consultant, I did not seriously consider or lean into the issue of racism and inclusivity. I am responsible for every time I sat in a campaign office and talked about the need to “…make sure we had diversity in the campaign mail pictures” without seriously considering what actual diversity and equality in politics looks like, not mere tokenism in campaign photos.
I’m responsible for not owning my privilege. The area where my white privilege made itself known was my experience with the criminal justice system. When I stood in a courtroom nearly seven years ago to take responsibility for the embezzlement of almost $300,000 that led to an entire party shift in our state legislature — I was given a light sentence under DOSA, the Drug Offender Sentencing Alternative in Washington state. A DOSA sentence requires the Judge to go to the midpoint of the sentencing range and cut the sentence in half, with the first portion being served incarcerated, and the second in community custody. This DOSA sentence meant that despite the severity of my crime and its impact on so many people, I was sentenced to the equivalent of a year in prison.
A year in prison, with one-third being taken off for good behavior for eight counts of felony theft. That is privilege. Compare that to a man like George Floyd, who received a death sentence for allegedly using a counterfeit $20 bill. Even in the worst period of my life, I could still benefit from being born a white man. That is privilege.
I am responsible for how I respond to moments of privilege, and I’m responsible for what I contribute towards a solution to the racial inequities embedded in the fabric of our country. I’m responsible for owning the things I don’t understand, like systematic racism, and I’m responsible for being present in every conversation. I’m responsible for saying that I, as a college-educated white man in my late 30’s, can’t possibly ever really understand the experience of people of color in the U.S. Conversely, I’m also responsible for owning my truth, listening to the experience of others, and collaborating to move all of us forward.
As we move forward in addressing our country’s racism, I will contribute. There will be successes, and there will be failures. And regardless of the results, I will choose to take responsibility for my contribution.
I hope you will join me and The Communities Project by leading on racism and addiction and starting the conversation from a place of leadership and responsibility.
Michael King is the Director & Creator of The Communities Project. Email him at michael@communitiesproject.org, or follow him on Twitter @michaelking1981.
