“At Least It’s Not Happening to Me”

There’s a dangerous thought floating through the minds of far too many Black people in America — one that quietly whispers, “At least it’s not happening to me.”
It’s the false comfort that if you dress the part, say the right words, stay in the “right” neighborhoods, get the “right” job, or avoid protest, you’re safe. That the chaos, the injustice, the racism, the brutality — happens to them, but not to me.

It’s a lie.
A seductive, survival-based illusion that distances us from the pain of others while setting us up for a fall of our own.

Trayvon Martin could have been any of our sons.

He didn’t fit any “thug” stereotype. He was a kid, walking home with Skittles in his pocket and a hoodie over his head. A hoodie — not a weapon, not an attitude, not a reason to die.

But he was murdered anyway.

He was killed because racism isn’t waiting for your résumé, your code-switching skills, or your church attendance. It doesn’t care that you’re quiet, or respectful, or successful. It doesn’t care that you say, “I don’t have problems with the police.”
Racism sees your skin first — and that’s all it needs.

Sandra Bland could have been your Sister, your Mom, or your Auntie.

A professional Black woman, pulled over for a traffic stop, and ended up dead in a jail cell.
She was outspoken. Intelligent. Conscious. But still believed her life had value in the system.
And it did — until the system said it didn’t.

The Myth that “Your One of The Good Blacks”

Too many of us unconsciously chase safety by trying to become “the exception.”
You get degrees, wear the suit, move to the suburbs, blend in — and then believe, “They don’t mean me when they talk about racism.”

But that’s a myth white supremacy built for us, to divide us.
It wants you to think you’re different from the Black person who got choked out on the pavement. Or the one who got followed in the store. Or the one whose name is now a hashtag.

It tells you, “If you behave, you’ll be fine.”

Until you’re not.
Until the day a cop pulls you over on the wrong night.
Until your child gets profiled at school.
Until you realize your job stopped promoting you 3 years ago.
Until the mask of protection slips off and you see what’s always been there: racism doesn’t need a reason. It only needs a body. Yours.

The Real Power: Collective Consciousness

The truth is, we are all Trayvon.
We are all Sandra.
We are all George Floyd.
Breonna. Philando. Tamir. Rekia. Emmett. The list goes on.

When we accept that, we stop pretending that silence is safety.

Instead of saying, “That’s not my problem,” we start saying, “That’s our problem.”
Instead of asking, “What did they do to deserve that?” we ask, “Why is this still happening at all?”
Instead of distancing ourselves from Black pain, we lean in. Speak out. Link arms. move smart. Build power. Create systems of our own.

What Does That Look Like?

It looks like:

• Supporting Black-owned businesses instead of begging for a seat at a table that will never feed you.
• Teaching your kids not just about achievement, but about identity, resistance, and truth.
• Using your “safe” position to speak boldly — not quietly — in rooms where racism gets ignored.
• Holding each other accountable to not sleep on justice.

Final Word: You Are Not Exempt

The reality is simple:
If it can happen to one of us, it can happen to any of us.
And the only way forward is together.

So the next time you catch yourself thinking, “At least it’s not me,”
stop.
Breathe.
Remember their names.
And ask yourself — what am I doing to make sure it’s not someone else next?