I'm a privileged man. I'm a white man. That's winning the sex and race card by nothing but chance. Luck. It feels disgusting saying that — lucky to be white. But I am. We are. My family, most of my friends. Being white, there are a lot of things we don't have to worry about. Like being killed while running in our neighborhood. We don't have to worry about that because we aren't black. We've never been the victims of racial profiling.

But I'm not part of the problem just because I'm white. I'm part of the problem because of my lack of actions and my choice of words.

I've used the N-word before. I've used it more often than I'd care to admit and more recently, as well. It doesn't matter if it wasn't meant to be used as a racial slur. It doesn't matter if it was used while reciting a song. It doesn't matter if it was used to “jokingly" greet my white friends the way black friends greet each other. The word is not a joke. There's nothing funny about the damage the word can cause people — people that aren't white.

On top of my pathetically horrible choice of words, I'm part of the problem because of how idly I sit by while countless black people are murdered for no reason. I'm a social media warrior who openly and proudly shares his beliefs on Facebook and Instagram. I'm the first one to call out the president on his lies. I comment on friends' posts I don't agree with as if it were my job. I've vehemently stuck up for the LGBTQ community.

But when it comes to racism and injustice, I go silent. I don't show my belief that black lives matter. I become part of the problem.

I don't go silent because I don't have anything to say. Racism and racial injustice are some of the biggest issues I have with America. I want to say something. I want to speak out. But I don't know how. After each killing that occurs, I see my black friends pour their hearts out over another loss. I don't know what to say because nothing seems good enough, and I have no idea what it's like to be in those shoes. I'm ignorant and naive, and it's not OK.

But it's time to say something, anything. Because saying or doing nothing is almost as bad as the people that are cutting these black kings and queens lives short.

So, let me start off by saying I'm sorry.

I'm sorry for my words.

I'm sorry for my lack of action.

I wish I could say sorry for all white people, but I, unfortunately, can't.

Besides being sorry, I want to thank you. Thank you for being strong and passionate. Thank you for making your voice heard. To keep fighting, after all these years, and to see how far we all still have to go, it's inspiring.

I will never try to believe I understand the fear that so many black people must face. I'm not naive enough to think I know anything about the lives you live. Because even as much as I wish we were all the same, as much as I wish my black friends and my white friends had the same worries, we aren't and we don't. And as I'm writing these words, I'm realizing it's not enough. They might as well be “thoughts and prayers" for the families of mass murders.

I'm tired of saying the wrong things. I'm tired of saying nothing, doing nothing. Because even though this isn't enough, I hope it's something. And I hope to become part of the solution instead of being part of the problem.