What I Learned About Whiteness, Blackness and Real Accountability

The first time someone said to me, “Yeah, you can’t fuck your way out of racism,” I was stopped cold. It felt like a slap, a truth so sharp I didn’t quite know what to do with it. For three months, it simmered in the back of my mind ...

What I Learned from Blindly Trusting a Black-Owned Counseling Practice

I believe deeply in supporting Black-owned businesses.

As a white mother raising Black children, I know representation matters — not just in books and movies, but in the people who surround and serve my kids. Especially in the ...

Why “I Have Black Kids” Isn’t the Flex You Think It Is

Let’s just say it:
If your go-to defense against racism is “I have Black kids” or “I have a Black friend,” you’ve missed the point.

Yes, I’m a white parent of Black children.
And I’m telling you: that doesn’t give me a free pass.
It doesn’t me...

I used to believe that my fierce love for my Black twins was enough to inoculate them against racism. But whiteness—my own unexamined assumptions, reflexes, and fears—kept showing up in the quiet moments of parenting.

Late one night, I noticed a tall Black man walking toward me on an empty street. ...

I was born and raised in the Netherlands—in a white bubble.

A bubble where I learned history as it was written by the victor. I didn’t know to question it. The textbooks told clean stories of explorers and progress, and I memorized the facts that helped me pass the test.

But the deeper truth?
Thos...