I struggle to understand why it is so hard for any of us to see that when we project our discomforts onto others, ask them to change so that we ourselves can feel more at ease, we utterly give away our power and agency. It's not your job to "make" me feel more at ease. It's not my job to "make" you feel more at ease. It speaks to the bullshit stories we carry about what others owe us, or how easily our sense of social equilibrium is toppled by the presence of something outside our experience.
To which I might argue folks, you don't fucking get out much.
Short of spray-painting yourself with Caucasian-colored white wash I can't imagine what the hell you can do to "make" others feel safer. It's inane. I spent part of yesterday listening to someone for whom I have the deepest regard rage about the recent Black deaths, for she is herself Black, and she has a 28 year old son. I can't even imagine how much fear she carries, as any moment she might get "the call." Her son walks everywhere, and as such, for some he radiates threat. Dear god. Simply by existing he radiates a threat.
As a very outspoken white woman I've had plenty of baby men respond to me the same way. How extraordinarily immature- that someone else's being different is a threat to your existence, your sense of what's right.
This morning I read a comment by a man whose Medium handle identified him as an Orthodox Christian. I had offended him. Sounds like a personal problem.
While all that costs me is the the few seconds it takes to block the man, in your case, your offense for being Black could cost you your life. And yet people can't see this. can't understand the prison of privilege, and if it's pointed out, they dodge and weave and justify.
I don't have answers. Sometimes all I have is deep anger, sadness, and grief.