“White people and nonblack people of color have the luxury of treating these cases as injustices. For them, it is moralistic. For us, it's about survival.” - Rawiya Kameir and Judnick Maynard

It is nearly impossible to go on Facebook, Twitter, or any social media these days, without being overwhelmed with images, words, and video footage about the recent grand jury cases of Mike Brown and Eric Garner. I read. I watch. I listen. I am outraged. I am deeply saddened. I feel lost. But I do not post these feelings to Facebook. When asked to write an article about these cases, I wanted to email back swiftly and say, “No, thank you, I am uncomfortable writing about that.” But I did not.

Instead I reflected on why it is that I feel so uncomfortable writing about this. What triggered my flight response? As an artist, I must delve into the uncomfortable places -- into the darkness. As a writer, I must be articulate about difficult issues. As a human, I have a responsibility to help others however I can. It is not good enough to say I am uncomfortable.

I did not post on Facebook because I did not feel like it was my place to say anything. As a white woman of privilege, I did not feel like my voice should be heard on this subject, even though I was saddened, outraged, lost. I read the #alllivesmatter posts, and the anti #alllivesmatter #blacklivesmatter posts. I saw some really beautiful moments of learning. And some really ugly moments of ignorance.

This particular story of oppression, suffering, racial profiling, and police brutality belongs to the black community. White people should not co-opt this story as their own. White people actively protesting must remain ever cognizant of whose story they are helping to tell. Just like modern day feminism, we want men supporting us, but the loudest voices at the podium should not be men, they should be women.

Unfortunately, while supporting Black Lives Matter has become somewhat trendy, for some, it is a matter of survival for the black community. However, there is an effective way to express solidarity and take action without compromising the black community’s voice: our daily actions.

In order for this overall movement of racial equality to be successful, everyone -- regardless of color -- needs to be unified. Therefore, the added support from white people and nonblack people of color is vital because, at the end of the day, this won’t work if everyone is not on board. It is everyone’s responsibility, regardless of color, to strive for equality and justice in our daily lives and practices.

I can only confront this issue and write this article from my personal vantage point as a white woman. However, I can work to find commonalities of humanity within others’ stories, recognize their importance, and come to learn from their experience, in some way. It is work because these conversations and situations can be difficult. However, if we want to see strides in racial equality and any social justice issues, we all need to find a way to communicate about them.

If, individually, we find our own way to articulate and talk about challenging subjects like race, we can affect change. It is our generation that has the power to decrease racial divides through growing communications, routine daily action, protest against unjust institutions and systems we observe. Do not stand for intolerance in your clubs, on your stages, or in your sororities and fraternities. Everyone has a part to play in this process of social change. Whether that is protesting in the city, politely correcting an offensive comment, or working to represent more diverse stories on stage, together, we can work to find common truth, sadness, love, and hope long after the marches are over.