I have plenty of loved ones who are black- old friends I no longer keep in touch with, coworkers, supervisors, clients, students, friends of friends. My partner and his family are Puerto Rican. I have good friends that are Asian. It's not like I live in a little white world. But I recognize that my whiteness makes black people I know wary of befriending me now, and has played a part in dissolving friendships in the past. And that's okay. It's a protective measure against abuse. It's not that my abuse has ever been intentional. My first few months in college, I had a nice little friend group that consisted of myself, a white Jewish girl, a black girl, and an Asian girl who had been raised by a white family. Slowly, the black girl stopped hanging out with us as much and began spending more and more time with a group of people of color on campus. Once I said that I missed her hanging out with us, and my friend who was Asian said, "we're not black enough for her." I remember feeling hurt, but also had come to realize that those students were facing different challenges in their first year of college than I was. She and I might genuinely enjoy each other's company, but I couldn't really understand exactly what she was going through, and she must have not felt comfortable sharing it with me. That's okay. I have long buried my white guilt, and my white savior phase, and my white righteousness. When black people speak about racism, when they talk about their history and experiences, I no longer seek to say "well my black friend said the opposite" or "that doesn't seem right." I am here to stand beside people and listen and support. My hope is that through these actions, and through my own activism, that I will soon make new black friends. If not, though, I will respect the choices of black people to befriend me or not based on their own sense of safety.