Where I Stand

I regularly feel like a coward, the exact opposite of the brave characters who people my novels. In my private life, I am outraged by injustice. The tragic murder of George Floyd sickens me and haunts my nightmares. Yet I’m reluctant to say anything publicly the way other writers I admire do. I reason that people who agree with me don’t need more revving up, and that the people who don’t agree with me will shut me out. I don’t trust the Internet to be a safe place for my opinions, and at the same time, I also can’t believe I matter enough that anyone, any strangers, really care what I think.

So I’m silent normally. I channel my opinions into my art and hope for the best.

But in case anyone is listening, I’m grieving and angry. We are a splintered country on a hurting planet. We are in for a deadly summer of scapegoating and violence. And at the same time, I see beauty and resolve all around me. I believe in our children and keeping them safe — all of them, black, white and brown. It’s time to end racial injustice. It’s time to change the story.

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