Wife. Mama. Runner. Those are the first three words I’d use to describe myself to a stranger.

Here’s how those words look different to me this week:

I’m a wife who doesn’t have to fear that if my husband is pulled over he might not make it home alive.

I’m a mama who will never have to explain to her son that he can’t play hide and seek in the store clothing racks because someone might mistake him for trying to steal.

I’m a runner who doesn’t have to shout “on your left” out of concern that the color of my skin might scare the person I’m approaching.

That’s white privilege. Simple, ordinary privileges. Tied to simple, ordinary words.

Knowing where to start is hard, but I feel pretty confident I can start with words. Here are a few: I’m sorry. I love you. I stand with you. I believe you are worthy of more.