Dear Milledgeville Police Department,

Tonight, my heart races in my chest, my ears are pounding, I cannot sleep. I am terrified. In just over a month, I will trust my most precious gift to you. I will send you my 18-year-old son.

As a mom, I know it is normal to experience anxiety about letting go and allowing my little boy to fly from my nest. I have prepared for that anxiety, and I have met it with equal amounts of excitement for all the amazing adventures I know are in store for him.

But tonight, I know a new kind of fear -- a fear foreign to me, a white female.

You see, my son is Black.* Tonight, I lie awake with worries much greater than whether he will shower often enough or cook healthily enough or learn to live by a budget. Tonight, I fear for his life.

I fear because I know your fear. To be honest, I know your fear all too well. I experience your fear. I, too, grew up in the rural South, and I, too, was taught by my culture to fear Black men. I have felt my heart speed up when I have been alone and approached by a person of color. I know the resulting internal battle between logic and fear. I know the battle, and I fear the battle.

I do not envy your position. I appreciate all you do to keep our communities safe. But I fear your fear, as I fear my own. I fear the fear that causes good men and women in uniform to kill good men and women of color simply because of that color. I do not blame you for the culture in which we were taught, but I beg you -- as I beg myself -- to overcome the injustice that has been so deeply ingrained in us.

This will require painful honesty on our part. Admit our own fear. Face it head-on. Be intentional about addressing our own guilt before we unintentionally steal someone else's innocence. It will neither be easy nor natural, but it is essential to preserving life. LIFE! Lives that matter! Lives worth far more than the effort we put into overcoming our fear. Please! For life's sake! Will you join me in this fight against ourselves?

Milledgeville, in just over a month, I will trust my most precious gift to you.

I am terrified. Are you?

-mo

*He is, in fact, a very close friend whom I consider to be a son.