Open Letters to White Guys Like Me
(Racism Isn't a Left Versus Right Equation)
A Retired White Cop's Hopeful, Practical, Unique, Incomplete Perspective on Race and Law in the United States.
Letter #1: Why is the guy writing me a letter? Who writes letters anymore?
Letter #2: Since You Came Back, Let's Drink the Hard Stuff.
Letter #3: So, what do you do? Take some steps in the right direction.
Preface
This is the first of three open letters to white people in the United States. Since we tend to be naturally suspicious of things that are different, I wanted to start off with a few Cliff Notes about who I am, and my perspective, because some things are just easier to hear from someone who is a lot like you.
I’m a white guy from the suburbs. I grew up here. I’ll probably die about ten miles from where I grew up. I’m married to an incredible woman and have two amazing daughters. We believe in Jesus. We go to a suburban church full of white people just like us.
I drink craft beer, love baseball, own a suburban home and I don’t mow my own yard. I have a lot of guns, and I wear cowboy boots. I drive a pickup and a Harley. I’ve got bad knees and the older I get the earlier I wake up. I love good Texas BBQ and good Texas music. I don’t eat vegetables.
I’m the guy waiting behind you impatiently at the grocery store, or next to you at the stop light. We could be neighbors, we might even be friends.
History
I taught school for a while and years ago quit my job as an assistant principal at a middle school to become a police officer. I was a cop for almost twenty years before I retired from a suburban police department, and I am proud of the work I did as a peace officer. I learned a few things from my time in law enforcement that I hope might be useful for you to hear from me today.
In August of 2003, my best friend was shot in the face, chest and wrist running a search warrant as a SWAT cop. I transported the shooter to the county jail late that night after I’d spent the afternoon waiting to hear whether or not my best friend would survive or recover.
A month later, I was involved in a shooting incident that ended in the death of the man I was attempting to arrest. Within the span of a month’s time, two incidents changed my perspective on almost everything I understood about law enforcement, race, equality and the rule of law. These were tough lessons to learn, and took decades to develop, but it gave me a perspective that I’d like to share with you.
These incidents forced me to think critically about a lot of things, and I hope they’ll make you think critically today. New ideas are uncomfortable. They might even make you angry. It’s OK to be fragile right now; it’s what you do with those new ideas that make you stronger. We’ll start with some slow pitch softballs and see if you keep swinging.
Assumptions
I will readily admit to a Tex-Centric view of the universe. I do think our BBQ is better. I like the shape of the state. I like the simple design of the iconic Lone Star flag. I think the music is better here. We have Willie Nelson, Lightnin’ Hopkins, Buddy Holly, Albert Collins, Guy Clark and Stevie Ray Vaughn. Take that, Rhode Island...
So, we all start with some biases and affiliations that inform our world view. Some regional, some professional, some ethnic and racial; but we all start somewhere and we all have them where we sit today. We use these biases and affiliations to make sense of the world and to provide structure for our brains to wrap around.
Proud to Be
Take the phrase, ‘I’m proud to be an American’ as an example. I am proud to have been born in the Unites States of America. I’m proud that I am a citizen of this country. I believe that our form of government, as screwed up as it is, is still the best model for the hope for freedom and equality in the world today. It’s the only place in the world where the kind of change we need can actually take place. It is imperfect. It has a shady history, a whitewashed past, and a poor record of delivery on our promise of freedom to many who live here; but it remains the single capable institution for change.
That phrase is also pretty telling about our isolationist exclusivity and our own geographical arrogance and ignorance. When we say America, we always mean “the United States of” which technically leaves about 78% of America out of the equation. North, Central and South America as a landmass account for about 16.6 million square miles. The United States occupies a small 23% of that, but claims the whole title as its own. Maybe Trump originally wanted to include Mexico and Guatemala in his Make America Great Again campaign, but just forgot to send the hats?
Two Songs, One Sentiment.
Have you ever wondered if Lee Greenwood or Katherine Bates were talking about Uruguay or Ohio when they wrote I’m Proud to Be an American or America, The Beautiful? I kind of doubt it was Uruguay. So, what do we learn from that? Maybe just this, let’s accept the assumption that some of the things we say, and songs we sing collectively have a degree of truth and meaning to them, but there’s a lot left out. There is a lot unsaid and unspoken. There might be a little misplaced and misguided arrogance and ignorance in some of the “truths” that we sing.
Maybe think about it this way, in America, The Beautiful there’s a lot of talk about purple mountains and majesties, but no one sings about the county dump or strip-mined coal operations in the third and fourth verses. That doesn’t mean that the Grand Canyon isn’t beautiful, but if you’re driving past a massive cattle feed lot in West Texas with a wheat field on the other side; you can see amber waves of grain and smell nothing but shit. Both are equally and undeniably real and true.
Worth Dying For
White folks are really proud of all the things we’ve died for. As one, I’m proud too. Many of us have family members who served admirably in the armed forces, many of us have lost loved ones to the cause of liberty. We absolutely should honor that sacrifice as the last full measure of devotion. There is a danger in extending this sentiment and truth too far and thin.
I was listening to the news a few weeks ago and they were interviewing a very angry white lady who was mad about the fact that some people wanted mail in voting due to the Covid-19 pandemic. She stated emphatically that she was going to vote in person, wearing a mask, and everyone else should too. After all, as she mentioned, she had family members who died for the right for her to vote.
Let’s forget for a minute the fact that men in battle are really fighting for the men next to them, and assume she’s right. But I have to think they didn’t die specifically so that a distant niece thirty years removed from the battle could vote in a mask, live and in person. Surely, if they died for her right to vote, their sacrifice extends to each of us. Men have fought and died for our freedom, to be sure. We should not soon forget that truth, but sacrifice extends far beyond the battlefield.
Do we also count the sacrifice of men of color, who were killed trying to exercise that same right to vote? Do we remember the laws we passed as a nation, entirely dedicated to removing the right to vote from an entire people group? In the global struggle for justice, if our soldiers die for the cause of freedom, how much does it cheapen their deaths if they died for the rights of a select few instead of the rights of all who call this place home?
Think About It
The two previous little examples are there for a purpose. Right now, depending on your tenacity and fragility you’ve either kept reading or hit delete. You’ve already drawn some conclusions about me and this issue, and who knows, maybe you’re right? But since you made it this far, I’m going to ask you to do something tough. I want you to think.
As white people from the suburbs, we pride ourselves on our independence and self-reliance. We believe in the power of rugged individualism and pulling ourselves up by our bootstraps. We believe in them in many cases because they reflect our story, the narrative of our own lives and experience. We assume that these qualities and characteristics are the direct path to the American dream. When it comes to race and equality, we take the assumption a little further and assume that these are the true answers to most of the questions. We assume that inequality is really more about the quality of the individual than the equality of our society.
But just for a minute, let’s put some of those assumptions to the side, because we need to start asking some new questions. For the rest of this letter, wherever you are on the political spectrum or wherever you get your news and information; I’m asking you to pause and think for yourself. We live in a deeply polarized society with real and scary problems that seem unsolvable by any metric. Ask why?
The Tyranny of Or
Our world and our problems are complex. People are complex. But the narrative in the Unites States has been distilled and harnessed in a binary arrangement that fails to tell the story or solve any of the problems we face as a nation. At some point, we stop thinking for ourselves and buy into the lie that the world is all tied to the tyranny of one of the shortest words in our language.
Or. Left or Right. Democrat or Republican. Fox or MSNBC. Black or White. Conservative or Liberal. Us or Them. Right or Wrong. Walls or Open Borders. Police or Community.
So far, I’ve only identified two groups that truly benefit from the insidious division of our nation into two simple commodities; politics and the media. As long as Democrats and Republicans can steer their base by demonizing the other side, they’ll do it. They maintain power and control through fear and division, and that won’t stop until people start thinking again.
Our media outlets, instead of asking tough questions and thinking independently and objectively, package and market “or” so masterfully that we feed from the trough, left or right, without thinking or questioning. Our perspectives grow narrower with each news cycle and election cycle. Narrow perspectives are incapable of solving complex problems.
Our narrow mindedness will continue to attempt to put the world into two neat boxes and fail to accomplish a single thing until one of two things happen: we broaden our perspective (and here’s that little word again) or we reach an inseparable point of division.
One Small Step
When Neil Armstrong put his foot on the surface of the moon, it marked an important step in the middle of a very long journey. I’m asking you to take a small step with me today on a journey that will hopefully lead to a country that delivers on the promise of freedom and equality. For Armstrong, this little marble was a long way back in the rear-view mirror, and there were miles to go before they got home. For us white folks, we tend to forget the hard and often ugly miles behind us. We tend to stay inside our comfortable suburban bubbles and we rarely ever consider taking a step on the journey of race in these United States.
Today, I’m asking you to start thinking. That’s the first small step. The first step is one of the hardest to take. But honestly, the first step is worthless without the second step and the third and every step forward to the end. If Neil Armstrong quit after the “first small step for man” he would, quite literally, now be dead, floating near the surface of that large gray rock or drifting slowly out to deep space.
Thinking, broadening our perspective, cultivating empathy, allowing our gut defensive reactions to subside; each take a considerable amount of thought. This doesn’t have to be a yearlong process, but it is really important to start thinking before we start talking, and talking before acting, and acting before men just like George Floyd die another senseless, preventable death. Waiting to deal with these issues personally means one thing culturally, the unspoken tacit approval of the status quo through continued silence and blindness.
Mr. Fix It
Doing the personal work, the pre-work is critical to progress. White guys like me tend to want to break out the tools and fix things without really looking at the problem. About twenty years ago, I had a chain saw that broke while chopping down a tree in my backyard. This was pre-You Tube. Immediately, I went to the garage, took out some wrenches and a lot of frustration and tore that thing down to the gears. It took me a while to realize that I knew virtually nothing about small engine repair. I put in all in a box and placed it on a shelf. It sat there for ten years before I threw it away.
I’m older and wiser now. I also have more discretionary income now. The next time I buy a chain saw, I’ll buy a good one. The next time I break a chain saw, I’ll read the manual before I try to fix it. I’ll watch You Tube videos to try and learn more from others who have experienced the same issue. If all that fails, I’ll take to a repair shop. The one thing I won’t do, is let the damn thing sit for another ten years before I find a solution.
Still Reading?
I’m pretty surprised you’re still here. I don’t have all the answers, I don’t even know all the questions, but I think we can learn things from each other and make the decision to change things. We can act. We can reject the status quo and have better expectations of ourselves, our leaders and our country.
In my second letter to me and others like me, I will talk about some of the hard stuff; they myths we believe and the truths we hold self-evident. This will hopefully challenge and provoke you the way they did for me. In my third letter, I’d like to share some things that I believe can lead to real and lasting change; to a better version of our nation.
I don’t know if this was written for an audience of one or many, but if you’re still reading, I’ll keep typing. And I would love to talk with you personally, if you’re interested in rolling up your sleeves and diving in. I hope you will, that’s another thing we’re pretty good at if we’re willing.
Let's Talk.
Shawn Henderson
shawn@beecivilbalm.com
This is the first of three open letters to white people in the United States. Since we tend to be naturally suspicious of things that are different, I wanted to start off with a few Cliff Notes about who I am, and my perspective, because some things are just easier to hear from someone who is a lot like you.
I’m a white guy from the suburbs. I grew up here. I’ll probably die about ten miles from where I grew up. I’m married to an incredible woman and have two amazing daughters. We believe in Jesus. We go to a suburban church full of white people just like us.
I drink craft beer, love baseball, own a suburban home and I don’t mow my own yard. I have a lot of guns, and I wear cowboy boots. I drive a pickup and a Harley. I’ve got bad knees and the older I get the earlier I wake up. I love good Texas BBQ and good Texas music. I don’t eat vegetables.
I’m the guy waiting behind you impatiently at the grocery store, or next to you at the stop light. We could be neighbors, we might even be friends.
History
I taught school for a while and years ago quit my job as an assistant principal at a middle school to become a police officer. I was a cop for almost twenty years before I retired from a suburban police department, and I am proud of the work I did as a peace officer. I learned a few things from my time in law enforcement that I hope might be useful for you to hear from me today.
In August of 2003, my best friend was shot in the face, chest and wrist running a search warrant as a SWAT cop. I transported the shooter to the county jail late that night after I’d spent the afternoon waiting to hear whether or not my best friend would survive or recover.
A month later, I was involved in a shooting incident that ended in the death of the man I was attempting to arrest. Within the span of a month’s time, two incidents changed my perspective on almost everything I understood about law enforcement, race, equality and the rule of law. These were tough lessons to learn, and took decades to develop, but it gave me a perspective that I’d like to share with you.
These incidents forced me to think critically about a lot of things, and I hope they’ll make you think critically today. New ideas are uncomfortable. They might even make you angry. It’s OK to be fragile right now; it’s what you do with those new ideas that make you stronger. We’ll start with some slow pitch softballs and see if you keep swinging.
Assumptions
I will readily admit to a Tex-Centric view of the universe. I do think our BBQ is better. I like the shape of the state. I like the simple design of the iconic Lone Star flag. I think the music is better here. We have Willie Nelson, Lightnin’ Hopkins, Buddy Holly, Albert Collins, Guy Clark and Stevie Ray Vaughn. Take that, Rhode Island...
So, we all start with some biases and affiliations that inform our world view. Some regional, some professional, some ethnic and racial; but we all start somewhere and we all have them where we sit today. We use these biases and affiliations to make sense of the world and to provide structure for our brains to wrap around.
Proud to Be
Take the phrase, ‘I’m proud to be an American’ as an example. I am proud to have been born in the Unites States of America. I’m proud that I am a citizen of this country. I believe that our form of government, as screwed up as it is, is still the best model for the hope for freedom and equality in the world today. It’s the only place in the world where the kind of change we need can actually take place. It is imperfect. It has a shady history, a whitewashed past, and a poor record of delivery on our promise of freedom to many who live here; but it remains the single capable institution for change.
That phrase is also pretty telling about our isolationist exclusivity and our own geographical arrogance and ignorance. When we say America, we always mean “the United States of” which technically leaves about 78% of America out of the equation. North, Central and South America as a landmass account for about 16.6 million square miles. The United States occupies a small 23% of that, but claims the whole title as its own. Maybe Trump originally wanted to include Mexico and Guatemala in his Make America Great Again campaign, but just forgot to send the hats?
Two Songs, One Sentiment.
Have you ever wondered if Lee Greenwood or Katherine Bates were talking about Uruguay or Ohio when they wrote I’m Proud to Be an American or America, The Beautiful? I kind of doubt it was Uruguay. So, what do we learn from that? Maybe just this, let’s accept the assumption that some of the things we say, and songs we sing collectively have a degree of truth and meaning to them, but there’s a lot left out. There is a lot unsaid and unspoken. There might be a little misplaced and misguided arrogance and ignorance in some of the “truths” that we sing.
Maybe think about it this way, in America, The Beautiful there’s a lot of talk about purple mountains and majesties, but no one sings about the county dump or strip-mined coal operations in the third and fourth verses. That doesn’t mean that the Grand Canyon isn’t beautiful, but if you’re driving past a massive cattle feed lot in West Texas with a wheat field on the other side; you can see amber waves of grain and smell nothing but shit. Both are equally and undeniably real and true.
Worth Dying For
White folks are really proud of all the things we’ve died for. As one, I’m proud too. Many of us have family members who served admirably in the armed forces, many of us have lost loved ones to the cause of liberty. We absolutely should honor that sacrifice as the last full measure of devotion. There is a danger in extending this sentiment and truth too far and thin.
I was listening to the news a few weeks ago and they were interviewing a very angry white lady who was mad about the fact that some people wanted mail in voting due to the Covid-19 pandemic. She stated emphatically that she was going to vote in person, wearing a mask, and everyone else should too. After all, as she mentioned, she had family members who died for the right for her to vote.
Let’s forget for a minute the fact that men in battle are really fighting for the men next to them, and assume she’s right. But I have to think they didn’t die specifically so that a distant niece thirty years removed from the battle could vote in a mask, live and in person. Surely, if they died for her right to vote, their sacrifice extends to each of us. Men have fought and died for our freedom, to be sure. We should not soon forget that truth, but sacrifice extends far beyond the battlefield.
Do we also count the sacrifice of men of color, who were killed trying to exercise that same right to vote? Do we remember the laws we passed as a nation, entirely dedicated to removing the right to vote from an entire people group? In the global struggle for justice, if our soldiers die for the cause of freedom, how much does it cheapen their deaths if they died for the rights of a select few instead of the rights of all who call this place home?
Think About It
The two previous little examples are there for a purpose. Right now, depending on your tenacity and fragility you’ve either kept reading or hit delete. You’ve already drawn some conclusions about me and this issue, and who knows, maybe you’re right? But since you made it this far, I’m going to ask you to do something tough. I want you to think.
As white people from the suburbs, we pride ourselves on our independence and self-reliance. We believe in the power of rugged individualism and pulling ourselves up by our bootstraps. We believe in them in many cases because they reflect our story, the narrative of our own lives and experience. We assume that these qualities and characteristics are the direct path to the American dream. When it comes to race and equality, we take the assumption a little further and assume that these are the true answers to most of the questions. We assume that inequality is really more about the quality of the individual than the equality of our society.
But just for a minute, let’s put some of those assumptions to the side, because we need to start asking some new questions. For the rest of this letter, wherever you are on the political spectrum or wherever you get your news and information; I’m asking you to pause and think for yourself. We live in a deeply polarized society with real and scary problems that seem unsolvable by any metric. Ask why?
The Tyranny of Or
Our world and our problems are complex. People are complex. But the narrative in the Unites States has been distilled and harnessed in a binary arrangement that fails to tell the story or solve any of the problems we face as a nation. At some point, we stop thinking for ourselves and buy into the lie that the world is all tied to the tyranny of one of the shortest words in our language.
Or. Left or Right. Democrat or Republican. Fox or MSNBC. Black or White. Conservative or Liberal. Us or Them. Right or Wrong. Walls or Open Borders. Police or Community.
So far, I’ve only identified two groups that truly benefit from the insidious division of our nation into two simple commodities; politics and the media. As long as Democrats and Republicans can steer their base by demonizing the other side, they’ll do it. They maintain power and control through fear and division, and that won’t stop until people start thinking again.
Our media outlets, instead of asking tough questions and thinking independently and objectively, package and market “or” so masterfully that we feed from the trough, left or right, without thinking or questioning. Our perspectives grow narrower with each news cycle and election cycle. Narrow perspectives are incapable of solving complex problems.
Our narrow mindedness will continue to attempt to put the world into two neat boxes and fail to accomplish a single thing until one of two things happen: we broaden our perspective (and here’s that little word again) or we reach an inseparable point of division.
One Small Step
When Neil Armstrong put his foot on the surface of the moon, it marked an important step in the middle of a very long journey. I’m asking you to take a small step with me today on a journey that will hopefully lead to a country that delivers on the promise of freedom and equality. For Armstrong, this little marble was a long way back in the rear-view mirror, and there were miles to go before they got home. For us white folks, we tend to forget the hard and often ugly miles behind us. We tend to stay inside our comfortable suburban bubbles and we rarely ever consider taking a step on the journey of race in these United States.
Today, I’m asking you to start thinking. That’s the first small step. The first step is one of the hardest to take. But honestly, the first step is worthless without the second step and the third and every step forward to the end. If Neil Armstrong quit after the “first small step for man” he would, quite literally, now be dead, floating near the surface of that large gray rock or drifting slowly out to deep space.
Thinking, broadening our perspective, cultivating empathy, allowing our gut defensive reactions to subside; each take a considerable amount of thought. This doesn’t have to be a yearlong process, but it is really important to start thinking before we start talking, and talking before acting, and acting before men just like George Floyd die another senseless, preventable death. Waiting to deal with these issues personally means one thing culturally, the unspoken tacit approval of the status quo through continued silence and blindness.
Mr. Fix It
Doing the personal work, the pre-work is critical to progress. White guys like me tend to want to break out the tools and fix things without really looking at the problem. About twenty years ago, I had a chain saw that broke while chopping down a tree in my backyard. This was pre-You Tube. Immediately, I went to the garage, took out some wrenches and a lot of frustration and tore that thing down to the gears. It took me a while to realize that I knew virtually nothing about small engine repair. I put in all in a box and placed it on a shelf. It sat there for ten years before I threw it away.
I’m older and wiser now. I also have more discretionary income now. The next time I buy a chain saw, I’ll buy a good one. The next time I break a chain saw, I’ll read the manual before I try to fix it. I’ll watch You Tube videos to try and learn more from others who have experienced the same issue. If all that fails, I’ll take to a repair shop. The one thing I won’t do, is let the damn thing sit for another ten years before I find a solution.
Still Reading?
I’m pretty surprised you’re still here. I don’t have all the answers, I don’t even know all the questions, but I think we can learn things from each other and make the decision to change things. We can act. We can reject the status quo and have better expectations of ourselves, our leaders and our country.
In my second letter to me and others like me, I will talk about some of the hard stuff; they myths we believe and the truths we hold self-evident. This will hopefully challenge and provoke you the way they did for me. In my third letter, I’d like to share some things that I believe can lead to real and lasting change; to a better version of our nation.
I don’t know if this was written for an audience of one or many, but if you’re still reading, I’ll keep typing. And I would love to talk with you personally, if you’re interested in rolling up your sleeves and diving in. I hope you will, that’s another thing we’re pretty good at if we’re willing.
Let's Talk.
Shawn Henderson
shawn@beecivilbalm.com