Last night coming home from a meeting where racism was evident I asked the three African-American women in the car with me how such good people do see the racism they were expressing in words and action. One woman responded about a man I deeply respect: “He does not want to face up to the racism in his heart.”

I did not understand what she meant until when I was driving home the last of the three women. She is an 86 year old African-America woman who asked if I could stop by a gas station so she could purchase some ‘pig skins’ snacks. I stopped at the station and said I would run in and get the snacks for her. Before leaving the car I saw a couple of young adult African American males standing around the door of the store. Instinctively I took some money from my wallet, left the wallet in the car with my friend, locked the door and went into the gas station store. I looked in the snack section of the store but could not find ‘pig skins”. I asked the person working behind the bullet proof glass where I can found them and one of the young men at the door pointed out a rack by the counter. He showed me the different kinds that were present and we joked about my not knowing what these snack were. On the way out the other young adult opened the door and we shared a few words of greetings. Once back in the car I put my wallet back in my pocket, gave the snack to my friend and drove to her house. I realized that it was the ‘racism in my heart’ that led to the fear of young black adults at the station.

Today I went to a prayer vigil for a young adult who was killed in North Central Milwaukee. I got there late and the mostly white regulars of the homicide vigil were just leaving. There was a large family turnout for the vigil and they did not leave. In fact more and more came. We stood around talked, prayed and just were present to each other. Family members were a mixture of African American and Hispanic persons. I talked with a few and learned more about a few, the family and the neighborhood. At one point we were told to gather around for prayer and a few members of the family prayed aloud. There was one young child running around and having a good time with family members. I was told this was the son of the young man killed and that he looked exactly like this deceased father. After 30 or 40 minutes family members started to leave and so did I. Feeling comfortable with this family was another chance to overcome the racism in my heart.

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