My crazy-ass leg wound

Many years ago, I spent a day up in Taylors Falls, MN with some friends. At one point, we were right next to the river's edge (the St. Croix River) when something happened and I fell. I was walking at the back of the pack, so no friends actually saw it happen (but they did hear the sound of the splash as part of me hit the water).

When I stood up, they noticed that blood was coming from my leg....but I literally had no idea what my leg might have hit or grazed during the tumble. Anyway, we wrapped my leg up, and then I took some Advil when I got home (when in doubt, take Advil...right?).

Over the next few weeks, my leg appeared to be healing nicely.....and that was a good thing since I had no medical insurance at the time.

But then, about a month after the tumble, I noticed that a red ring was forming around the site of the wound. I might not have been a genius, but I knew that red ring was a problem. So I headed to a clinic associated with a county hospital here in the twin cities (read: no insurance). That's when I learned that the body, in an effort to protect itself, will seal the wound at the surface.....which is fine when it's just a surface wound, but that's not what happened to me. It turned out that when I fell, something actually punctured and penetrated my leg....so underneath the surface, there was a tunneled system of open infection that needed immediate attention. The doctors had to re-open the wound (which was probably the most intense pain I have ever experienced) and then attempt to 'track' the wound to see if bone had been involved. There was even talk of potentially needing to utilize a hyperbaric chamber (intense oxygen therapy to help the body heal itself)....but thankfully, by packing the wound and spending more time with doctors than I care to remember, the wound healed itself without the need for further intervention.


I'm sharing this with you because I had an "ah-HA!" moment the other day....

This crazy-ass leg wound of mine is a metaphor for my own racism.

During the first 3 weeks after I fell, I thought my leg was healing nicely - I mean, there was NO open wound....at all. Skin was COMPLETELY covering the wound.


On the surface, things looked great.

But when the surface was opened, a huge festering and infected hole was discovered.


I don't know about you, but I like to think of myself as pretty accepting of all people, regardless of skin color or race or religion.

On the surface, everything looks fine. I have black friends - I'm good!


But then I catch myself having ugly thoughts.....thoughts that make my own stomach churn with disgust....

Like when I see a black man riding a bicycle.....and I wonder if he stole the bike.


Or when I see a black man in a wheelchair....and I wonder if he was shot during some sort of gang-related war.


Or I see a black woman with several kids, and I wonder if each kid knows who his or her dad is (first, assuming they do not know....and second, assuming there's more than one dad).


Or when I make fun of people who pronounce "ask" as "axe."


Or when I laugh at someone's name, wondering if his or her parents got the idea for the name while shopping for detergent at Walmart.


I hate having these thoughts. Hate it. And I admonish myself every time.


I know this is something within my heart that needs to change, and I will just keep lecturing myself every time it happens. I don't know what else to do.




I'll keep packing this wound until it heals from the inside.


Change begins with me.