Coping with the Shame of Inaction

I am ashamed.

This morning in one of my women entrepreneur groups, we had a group call to talk about the current events openly. To listen, to share what we learned, to be uncomfortable and imperfect together, and to talk about actions we can take in our lives and our businesses.

I was quiet – waiting for someone else to say what I was feeling so I could relate.

But no one said what I needed to hear.

The group talked about really difficult, important stuff. I listened to personal experiences with racism, heard questions about how to move our businesses forward with inclusivity, and discussed actions on how to be an ally right now to our black friends and entrepreneurs.

It was an honest and supportive conversation, but I spent the hour wondering if I could say anything. With two minutes left at the end of the call, the group leader called on me. She said, “I know you’ve been listening intently, Megan, and I want to give you a chance to take the floor.”

I took an audible deep breath, all eyes on me.

With a shaky voice, I told the women about my background of growing up in rural white America, where the people are kind, have polite manners, and work hard on their farms. Where there was never blatant racism in my community, but there also weren’t many BIPOC (black, indigenous, and people of color) in my town.

And then I said, “I’m just wondering…” there was a huge lump in my throat. “If anyone else is dealing with…” I started to cry. I could barely finish the sentence, and I wanted to hide. “How do you cope with the shame of inaction?” I asked. It was one of those ugly cries.

But I wasn’t alone. The other women in the group were crying, too. 

How do you cope with the shame of inaction?

I had black friends growing up, from nearby towns. I have black friends now. And I never once noticed or acknowledged how different their lives were because of the color of their skin. When I was pulled over by a police officer, I didn’t experience fear for my life – I experienced fear of tarnishing my perfect record.

I am ashamed.

And I am sorry.

Here’s what I learned, from today’s emotional group call: You have got to forgive yourself and give yourself some grace. This shame and guilt you’re feeling is real, but you can’t let it eat away at your mental health.

You’ve got to take care of yourself, so you can take action for others. 

I’m grateful to this community for allowing me to share my feelings, and I hope you know that this is a safe space. I want to be clear, if the grief in my story left any room for ambiguity… To the black, indigenous, and people of color in this audience, I want you to know and feel that you are welcome here. I respect you, I support you, and I value you.

I’m sorry I never said it before.

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If you would like to join me in self-education, I’ve been reading “How to be an Antiracist” by Ibram X. Kendi. It is a privilege to educate myself about racism instead of experiencing it.

I hope, if you’re going through something similar to me, you’ll give yourself the grace you deserve and choose to do better.

Your love and support mean the most,
Megan