Part of the Voice I Almost Lost – Blog #20
by Alana Pierre Curry
Not long ago, someone said to me, “If I could ask God one question, I would ask why skin color ever had to be the cause of such division, hatred, and violence.”
The timing of that question felt almost ironic, because it echoed in my heart again after the most recent tragedy in the news. Another life lost. Another family grieving. Another community shaken. And yet, instead of allowing space for mourning, the flood of commentary began almost immediately. Another cycle of division.
And I couldn’t help but think—when it was God’s intention for all to be loved, how did we get here?
Yes, I know—we all have free will. People choose how they treat others, whether that be to love or to hate. They choose to look at a human being and see “other.”
But why was that ever okay?
And why, for generations, were there not more people willing to stand up and say, “No more. Not here. Not in my lifetime.” And why when people did stand up, was there so much resistance from the other side?
The “Race Card” Conversation
I have heard the dismissals:
“Here we go again… playing the race card.”
“Why is everything about race?”
“Same old narrative.”
But here’s the question I wish those same people would ask themselves: why is there even a “race card” to play in the first place?
Why is it that when a crime is committed by a person of color, the comments often read “the usual suspects”? Why is a crime not simply a crime? Why does it have to be attached to race, expectation, and assumption?
No one wants to carry the weight of wondering if every sideways glance, every harsh word, every slammed seat on a midnight flight has something more beneath it than simple rudeness. But that’s the reality for many of us.
The Exhausting Checklist
I remember being on a flight with my husband. A woman in front of him reclined so aggressively that his iPad fell from the tray. She kept slamming back into her seat even after the flight attendant asked her to stop, glaring at us like we should not even be there.
The thoughts that ran through my head were not just about rudeness. They were about calculation, constantly weighing what the next steps could be.
Don’t say too much.
Don’t escalate.
Don’t confirm their expectations.
That’s the weight of it.
There shouldn’t have to be a mental checklist to determine how you respond to disrespect, to decide whether it warrants a reaction. But that checklist is there—uninvited, involuntary, exhausting.
Seen and Unseen Moments
Even in beautiful settings, like a recent trip to a Texas resort, the weight was there. My husband walked to the pool, and I noticed a couple at the bar turn their bodies completely around to stare at him. Not a glance. A long stare.
Do I want to believe it was about race? Absolutely not. I wish that thought never even had to cross my mind. But when the woman later passed right by me without so much as eye contact, the knot in my stomach tightened because I was ready to smile and say hello.
Moments like that are hard to explain to others.
The Burden We Carry
People say times have changed. And in many ways, they have. But there are still places you’re warned not to stop after dark. There are still conversations about safety when traveling. There are still parents who hold their breath every time their son drives to work before sunrise simply because he is a person of color.
No—we don’t want to “play the race card.”
We wish the deck had never been stacked in the first place.
Words and Humanity
Words matter. They can heal or they can harm. And when people casually dismiss racism as exaggeration—or worse, turn it into a punchline—they reveal just how much work is still left to do.
Because humanity should not be selective.
It should not be a bargaining chip.
It should not depend on your skin color or your status.
We must do better.
And maybe it starts by asking a new question: not “why are they playing the race card?” but “why does such a card even exist?”