When I was 13, I ran cross country and track, and during the off-season, my dad would train... a group of us girls who ran both. And he would push us too hard, and when I didn't hit a drill the way he wanted me to... ( Yells indistinctly ) .. he'd make me do it over and over and over until I would collapse on the ground.
And my dad would leave me there, and one by one, my team members would lie down next to me. Face to the concrete, eyes on me, silent. Giving me space, but... also making sure I wasn't alone.
And my instinct is that that is what I have to do for the Black members of my team... To quietly show up and let them know that I support them. But I think that instinct is wrong, because when my friends and I were 13, we didn't have the capacity to stand up against an abusive power. And now I do. I... I have the power to stand up and say when something is wrong. I mean, I have the power to call out injustices when I see them. I have... the power to make sure that everyone can breathe.