I am liberal. A white~ish woman, German, Puerto Rican, and Italian raised as a white girl in sunny Orange County and much less sunny Northern California. My husband is a white meditation teacher and writer. I am an artist, teacher and podcaster. I have two adopted African American boys. I have black friends and voted for Obama. I live in San Francisco. I am a sparkling example of Liberal.

I am liberal and racist.

I wear my badge of social justice warrior on my shirt sleeve and will remind you of it if you don’t notice. I can’t be racist. It is against my whole persona. In case you forgot, I have Black kids.

The badge, the kids, the artist, the “liberal” wipes my slate of racism clean.

And yet, I have racist thoughts. How was I taught to be a racist if no one flat out taught me? Could it be from the time I was born I was bathed in a white world? The white characters in the books I read and cartoons I watched. Barbie was white. Miss America was white. Princesses were white. The preacher and his prim wife and ivory perfect children were white. My teachers were white. My doctors were white. The store clerks were white. My friends and fellow students were white, except for the latino students that lived in another neighborhood. My history books were white. The news was white except when they talked about welfare. Then there was a photo of a Black woman.

My mother never said anything negative about Black people and yet somehow I knew to be cautious around Black men. Or that Black people are gangsters or criminals. That Black people lived on the other side of my neighborhood and I knew I shouldn’t go over there. I knew I could call the white police if I was in danger. I knew I could move through my day, neighborhood, city, country without the fear of being harassed because of my skin color. In fact I didn’t even think about it!

This was normal for me.

Then I headed for the big city of Los Angeles. And I brought my white privilege benefits card with me. Seamlessly getting through the door of life’s offerings, I thrived on the pulse of diversity and was introduced to people from many different cultures. My white world was newly colored with food, friends, music, art and fashion. I kinda woke up. Kinda. I was “nice to everyone” and would treat everyone equally. And yet, I would say some really dumb stuff like “you’re so articulate” to my Black friends. I was clueless of racism and would be offended if you said I was racist.

My cluelessness lost me a few friends. I was so insulated in the blanket of whiteness while growing up that I had no knowledge of the Black person’s experience. I thought it was horrific when Rodney King was beaten. I was even more horrified to discover this was more common than not. I timidly sheltered in my whiteness, felt guilty and slowly started reading and really listening. Which helped a little.

Thinking “I can do this” I adopted two African American boys. And no, I wasn’t trying to “save” them (whole other story). I was not only thrown into the fire of motherhood, I was thrown into the fire of being a mother to two Black boys. Yes. Black Boys. All of my ideas of being a mom were now being viewed through the lens of a Black mom without the experience of being Black. I didn’t have the “from the minute I was born Black history”. I had white history and it was nothing like Black history. I had to kick my ass into gear or I could seriously hurt these boys by not preparing them for a world that viewed Black people as other and worse.

Being a mom of two beautiful Black boys has opened my blind eyes to struggles I never had to imagine. From finding a place to live so my kids have examples of themselves and not be harassed or worse while walking through a white neighborhood to talking to them about racism to having Black friends and family in our circle.

I have learned and am still learning every minute of the day how not to be the passive neutral white person and to be an anti-racist. I am learning that just because I am liberal does not make me anti-racist. I must live, think and vote as an anti-racist. More importantly, I am learning how to talk to white people that are liberal social justice warriors that support racist companies, vote for racist policies, move to the “best neighborhoods” for the best schools and move to the other side of the street when my sweet Black teenage son walks by.

Yvette M. Brown, mom of two beautiful black boys. A homegrown podcaster of Awkwardness and Grace, a conversation with humans about race. https://www.stitcher.com/podcast/yvette-m-brown/awkwardness-grace