It’s not just in the eyes tightening or the smile flattening. It’s in how you bypass my existence. In how you treat me slightly differently than a white person — not enough to prove, but enough to feel. It’s the double take your system takes. That recalibration. And it’s felt by the other body. By me. And when another POC stays silent, that silence isn’t ignorance. It’s fear. Fear of being fired for agreeing. Fear of naming patterns their body already knows. Fear because they understand — clearly — that HR will not protect them. White privilege has insurance. “They didn’t know.” “They didn’t mean it.” Meanwhile the impact lives in my body as stored energy. Something I now have to process, shake out, metabolise — just to keep doing my job. And I know this isn’t projection because I know myself intimately. I know what is mine and what is not. My dear friend, This. Is. Yours.