An Open Letter to the ‘Karens’ from One of Your Own

We think we don’t like racism, so what do we do now?

I’ll begin with a few facts. I’m a middle-aged white woman of upper middle income, and I live in a small, midwestern town. I’m a wife, a mother of 5 children, a Catholic Christian, and am somewhat conservative in my politics.

In other words, I’m a Karen.

If you are reading this and feel a little triggered by what I just said, you might be one too. Don’t feel bad about that; it’s okay. Just take a breath, pour yourself a glass of chardonnay, or Rosé if you have it, and indulge me a few minutes for what I have to say to my sisters in privilege.

Being a Karen isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. We’re here navigating personal and work-life balance and aging parents. We’re raising kids in a world far more complex than the one our parents raised us in, and our thinning budgets and expanding midsections don’t help. We work hard, volunteer, and try to do it all with Pinterest perfection. Throw in a little global pandemic and homeschooling our kids and, well, it’s no wonder we Karens are running around delivering wine to each other and overusing the words “self-care.” Still, even in the midst of a global Pandemic, we’re relatively comfortable doing what we need to do for our families and friends to get through it together.

But this 2020 that we all are joking about so freely isn’t interested in our comfort.

Two weeks ago, the tragic murder of an African American man literally and figuratively turned American society upside down. Let me restate this. Yet another tragic killing of a Black man, adding George Floyd’s name to a long, inexcusable list of Black people who have suffered the ultimate injustice at the hands of the police sworn to protect them. The same police charged with protecting me.

And they do protect me. They have been protecting us Karens so well that we have never had to think about it. I have never once in my nearly 52 years had to wonder: if I encounter a police officer, will I be safe? Not ever.

I am confident that when I accidentally lock myself out of my house at night and am trying to climb in a window, a “well-meaning” passerby isn’t going to call those police because my skin color signals a suspicion that I’m up to no good. If I get pulled over for speeding, it is probably better than 50/50 odds that I’ll be driving away with a warning. And what if I am inadvertently carrying around a fake $20 bill and try to pay for my frappuccino with it? Pretty sure that the barista will apologize to ME for having to flag it before she asks me for a different form of payment and sends me along on my way with nothing other than an embarrassing story to tell at my book club. There is ZERO chance that I will pay for that frappuccino with my life, crying for my Mom as I am aggressively choked to death.

I cannot, and will never be able to put myself in that man’s place and think, “there but by the grace of God go I.”

So here’s the part where it gets sticky for the people that look and live like us. Bear with me, fellow Karens. This won’t be easy. You aren’t alone. It isn’t easy for me either.

The entrenched, protected, shameful and damaging existence of two different lives to be lived in America has always been there, and none of us were too stupid to know. Please read that again, and don’t get angry and defensive. I know you aren’t a bad person. I hope I’m not either.

This is very hard to hear, to internalize, and own. How do we own that we are angry and upset about something NOW that we didn’t get nearly as angry about the literally HUNDREDS of times it’s been tee’d up for us before?

Did you question previous incidents because you’re personally familiar with good people in law enforcement and can’t believe anyone could behave that way? Is it because we think bad stuff happens all the time? That doesn’t necessarily mean that police brutality or systemic racism are the norm, does it? There are ‘bad apples,’ right? Was nothing short of video proof going to solidify in our minds how truly barbarous the injustice others have been suffering is?

But the most unsettling thought to me and other well-meaning Karens like me is: are we standing up to this horror and calling it wrong now because everyone else is and we shouldn’t be seen not doing so? Am I willing to answer that question?

And while we are serving up the unvarnished honesty, let’s acknowledge that for some Karens, there remains an overt or subconscious expectation that the protection of their needs and wants will be met no matter what, even at the expense of black people. Security in this entitlement is so unchallenged that a woman like Amy Cooper, unwilling to leash her dog when asked to do so by an African American man, thinks a better option for her is to call the cops and assert that she’s being attacked. And had the man not pulled out his phone to film the whole encounter, who would have been believed? Are we even willing to consider how often this occurs without consequence because no one filmed it?

Are we going to finally address the insidious repetition of these injustices not because we have love in our hearts for our fellow man, but because phone cameras no longer allow us to rest comfortably in what we wanted to believe was true?

Maybe you feel you were already on the right side for a long time in one way or another. What if you have personally judged others fairly and with respect at every opportunity you have been given? You count people of color among your friends and give to causes that assist vulnerable minority communities. Those things are good, right?

So, if I don’t think my behavior is responsible for the perpetuation of racism in America, why am I being asked to ‘check my privilege’ now? Can’t we all just stop seeing color and love each other? Don’t all lives matter? Besides, defending law enforcement and talking about how hard their jobs are doesn’t mean I condone racism. Can’t I condemn the rioting when all it does is hurt their cause? Black-owned businesses are being destroyed too, aren’t they? And didn’t Martin Luther King stand for peaceful disobedience? What about that?

Can we blame black and brown people for shaking their collective heads at this point and saying, “Oh Karen”?

Let me throw out some observations about why these responses are insensitive, tone-deaf, and only widen the gulf between us. It’s not about what we are saying; it’s about context.

If you go to pay respects at the funeral of someone killed by a drunk driver, do you approach the bereaved with some facts about the percentage of alcoholics that don’t kill people with their cars? Or suggest that you need to reserve judgment about the cause of the accident because you don’t know if the person killed properly maintained their car?

How about if, God forbid, I found out my daughter was raped by a teacher at her school. In my overwhelming grief and anger, I drove over to the school looking for the teacher and unleashed my frustration by smashing up his classroom and some adjacent windows before decking him and calling the police and my lawyer. Certainly, that didn’t do anything to help my cause, and it harmed kids at the school whose classroom was wrecked. Rape and vandalism are both wrong, so being equally concerned about my daughter’s rape and the destruction of the school at the same time is perfectly valid, is it not?

Incidentally, I’m willing to bet that instead of condemning my lawless actions, I’d be universally cheered for them by all my fellow Karens.

If all we can muster at this point in history is to rest easy in our righteousness, we squander the opportunity before us. None of us can erase our complacency. We can’t ignore the times we remained silent about bigotry within our social circles in fear of losing relationships that we still needed or valued. I can’t take back the focus I placed on things that affected me personally while ignoring injustices that didn’t. Nor am I trying to now.

We Karens were babies or not even alive yet when Martin Luther King marched. For more than 50 years, we have been stalled on the path to achieving the day he dreamed of and — at whatever level you are willing or able to acknowledge — are included as owners in that failure. The grief-filled, angry, and, at moments, violent outcry for an end to this madness has once again been laid before our protected feet. It’s a critical moment.

Which kind of Karen do we want to be?