Over 365 days since our friendship ended.
To say I miss you would be an understatement. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve reached for my phone to call you to tell you about something that’s happening in my life. So many times I’ve needed to hear your voice, and the countless times I’ve wished things were different. I finally took you off my ‘Favorites’ the other day because you were right under Michael and there were times I’d accidentally press your name.
It feels unnatural to mourn a friendship like ours. We were supposed to become old ladies together, sitting on beaches sipping bubbly. You were my person.
I pass your old house almost every day, the house you moved into after a devastating heartbreak. The one that held you as we tenderly repaired that broken heart. The casita that helped you remember.
We made so many memories there-we laughed until our bellies hurt, we danced and sang, we planned and schemed and dreamed, we turned ourselves inside out. You accepted all of me, my annoying idiosyncrasies (and I have many), my need to control almost everything, my insecurities and fears, you always let me be me even when I was an asshole. You reveled in my wins and held me during some difficult losses. You loved me despite my infinite imperfections.
I’m confident I made the right decision because the one thing you will always love more than me and choose above all else is your whiteness.
My heart hurts but my soul is uncompromised.
Because there is no middle ground against racism and bigotry. Neutrality is for cowards who take refuge on the sidelines, and you my friend always refused to get in the ring. Your privilege keeps you safe and your willful ignorance keeps you blind.
You wanted to keep your Trump supporting boyfriend and our friendship, but that wasn’t possible. I could never pretend to be ok with somebody who sides with white supremacy, white nationalism, and xenophobia and I can’t pretend to be ok with somebody who thinks siding with those things is ok.
As I said before, if racism isn’t a deal breaker, you are also racist.
You accused me of hating white people, but the truth is, I don’t fight because I hate anybody, I fight because I love my people and I’ll continue to fight until white isn’t the default.
When you’re privileged, calling it out feels like hate.
This wasn’t about my “extremism,” it’s always been about how far you were willing to go to acknowledge your privilege. The privilege that exists even in your most difficult days, under the most excruciating circumstances. The privilege that will work in your favor no matter how poor, sick, or traumatized you are. That unearned privilege that protects your comfort and allows you to stay neutral.
This has always been about fighting for justice and equity. For years, you pretended to understand and even supported me, until you were forced to choose and you chose your privilege.
And even though it still hurts, I accept it.
I’ll never pretend that what we had wasn’t beautiful or sacred, but it was never meant to last forever. Because when whiteness is the foundation, it will inevitably destroy everything in its wake.
A year later,
I’m still living my truth,
You’re living yours,
I’ll cherish all of our moments,
But I’ve stopped hoping.
And I still miss you.
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