My Name is Travis, and I am a Racist

They say the first step towards recovery is admitting you have a problem.

Well, I admit it.

I don't want to be racist. I don't like the idea. I'm ashamed to say it. But it has to be said.

But I won't be able to improve until I am honest about where I start.

Right now my heart is twisted up in emotions. Last weekend my family and I received an incredible gift: we got invited to spend the 4th of July at a family reunion and birthday celebration for a family we just met. It was a celebration of the whole family overcoming a difficult past, heartbreak, and sometimes fighting, but they come together to remember the past, and encourage their kids to keep striving.

I was amazing. I came away so encouraged to see the resilience of a whole family, and knowing that my family can get through the tough times we've had.

What really made this interesting was that the reunion was for a large black family. (I say "black" because that's how they described themselves, if they called themselves "African-american" I would say that.)

The reunion also celebrated diversity. There were a couple of mixed-race marriages, and we weren't the only white family there. My favorite part was watching the kids play together. My kids had no concept of "race" yet. There were people of different color skin for them to play with like there were people with different color hair. It meant nothing more - there was nothing to divide them, just something different.

That's one thing I've been wanting for my kids -- to not know the concept of racism until they were so ingrained with a healthy attitude that when they finally understood what it was, they would be totally puzzled by the idea.

I have a new "family" (we've been adopted, BTW), and I came home all set to be an ambassador to diversity and to do what I can to help.

Then the shootings happened.
First Alton Sterling was shot at point-blank range in Baton Rouge, then Philando Castile was shot during a routine traffic stop in Minnesota.

I haven't watched the videos yet. I don't want to. I do know that a whole group of people is feeling a loss in a way that I have never experienced.

And that's why I choose today to admit to the public that I am a racist.
But people will defend me: "But you just spent this time with a black family and are glad your kids were with them. That's not racist."

No, it's not. But that's only a part of it. It's deeper than that.

I, like everybody else in the world, make my decisions and predictions based on what I've experienced. You see something horrible happen on the news, and you say to yourself "would that have happened to me?"

It's a deep instinct. I probably didn't articulate the words, but I thought it. What if I was in Alton Sterling's place; what about Philando Castile? What would I have done?

Well, based on my past experience with police, I would have reacted a certain way and be here today. It's too easy to judge and say "He should have cooperated." That's what I would have done - I would have cooperated. And I would have been fine. But I'm not black.

My experience tells me how to respond as a white person. I haven't experienced life as a minority. Traveling to Mexico doesn't count - I didn't live there.

My prejudice is that if black people acted like me, they wouldn't have problems. That's wrong. That's racist of me.

I don't know, but it seems logical for me to predict that when black people see this horrible situation in the news, and they say to themselves "what if that had been me?" The answer is: "I could be dead."

See, I've never experienced that kind of situation. I am projecting my white experiences onto a black problem. The only thing that does is to make me feel better about myself. That doesn't solve any problems, that just makes the pain go away, like drinking.

Like alcohol, projecting my white experience into these situations makes me numb to the heartache. That's why I have to approach my thinking in the same way AA does.

First, I have to admit I have a problem.

Another thing: recovering alcoholics are taught to never say they are "no longer alcoholics" - because once they think they're over it, they'll slip back into their old habits. They say they are "recovering alcoholics."

But for the sake of my new friends, I don't want to numb myself anymore. I want to feel with them, even though what I feel is different.

I realize that if I was in Alton Sterling's, or Philando Castile's position and I was black, I might be dead too.

And that's sobering.

Starting today, I am now a "recovering racist."