I confess that I have pushed my way to the front of the line because my day and my plans tower in comparison to yours.
I confess that I like "not taking no for an answer" and enjoy the challenge of convincing you to give me my way because I believe I am a good person.
I confess that I have leaned on my own Plan A and have not even considered yours, much less paid attention to God's Spirit.
I confess that upon first being heartbroken by the conditions you find yourselves in, I believed I had the power and the intelligence to solve your problems without any input from you.
I confess that sometimes I don't want to think about being white, that I'd rather chill on Netflix with super heroes who usually look just like me.
I confess that when my neighbor said we should move if you move into the neighborhood because of the "element" you'd bring, I pondered if she might be correct.
I confess that I have loved the art of your cultures often more than I have loved you or your bodies.
I confess that I celebrated the election of Barack Obama as an arrival instead of a good step in the right direction, and that celebration made me lazy.
I confess that I have wondered what you're up to, and I confess not wanting to share.
I confess that I have wanted to help you become like me, instead of making more space for you to be you.
I confess that I have tried to be like you, so that you'll like me and forget that I am white.
I confess that I have an addiction to power and that there is no full cure from my Whiteousness, only lifelong recovery.
I confess that I have silently judged your sagging pants, your militant attire, and your unfriendliness as aggressively combative instead of a necessary mode of survival.
I confess buying clothes that I like because they fit well, overlooking where or by whom they might be made.
I confess that I have called you Japanese or Asian before even asking you.
And I confess that on bad days as a teacher, I wished more of you were Vietnamese instead of black.
I confess trying to be like Jesus to you instead of learning how to follow Jesus with you.
I confess feeling like you have been racist towards me when I full well knew that the other job I applied for is just as viable as the one you didn't give me.
I confess that I have hated my own body, the body God has given me, because it must experience uncomfortable feelings when I am around you.
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