Ouch! Ugh! I’ve done things almost as bad as that, at least I hope it’s “almost”. When I first discovered how many lies I had been told about America’s history of racism, I often shared my discoveries with black friends of mine. I thought they would be interested in the most gruesome details, because hey, it affects their life, right? I really thought that in their minds, I was getting Ally points (not that the word existed back then), because I was showing my concern about these important issues. I think it’s possible that maybe I did win a few points with some of them. Nevertheless, I was still ruining their evenings by wallowing in factual descriptions that gave them great pain and upset. They had to live with these problems every day, and I was forcing them to re-experience them. I only had to experience outrage mixed with morbid fascination. For me, it was rather like watching a horror movie. For them, it was more like being in the horror movie.

I decided thereafter that I would only talk about racial issues with a black person if that person brought up the topic herself. When they decide to stop talking about it, the conversation is over. I try to spend more time listening than talking, and try to refrain from immediately commenting about anything that triggers me.