my view painted only in various shades of white. 

the little colour seeping in from novel experiences, relationships and books

everything I knew existed inside my whiteness.

I never felt unsafe in my skin.

never felt my cultural identity threatened.

I never questioned the cogs in the machine. 

never wondered why her and not me. 

over time my view exploded into colour and emotion 

the more I listened, the more I began to question. 

the more I began to see, the angrier I felt.  

angry on behalf of others, of my negligence.

angry because I never knew, no one ever told me as a child that some of my friends felt uncomfortable in their own skin. 

angry because why her and not me

anger turned into action. 

action turned into passion and the desire to be better. 

to know more. 

to listen more. 

to amplify the voices of others by using the privileged body, I had the luck to be born into.

to understand why her and not me. 

the thought of standing in a classroom of vivid, spectacular colour 

in my white body, can be terrifying.

but what is more terrifying, 

is a child, with a life of colourful bliss being pushed into the white abyss.  

I can not know all.

I can not experience all. 

but I can understand my whiteness, my privilege.
I can make my classroom a safe space; 
that embraces, celebrate and recognizes.

I can learn, listen, grow. 

I can use my position to help others understand why her and not me.