I’ve been doing it wrong. I thought it was enough that I was conscious of the racial stereotypes that I’d grown up with and that I made an effort to overcome them. I thought I was doing enough by teaching my kids that skin color wasn’t an indicator of a person’s worth. I thought I was doing enough by showing the same enthusiasm for Black Panther as I did for the other Marvel superheroes. I thought I was doing enough by making eye contact and smiling whenever I walked past a black person on the street.

I thought I was doing enough by voting for Barack Obama, twice, and respecting him as my president. I thought it was enough that for the first six years of her life, my daughter didn’t know that a president could be anything other than black. I thought it was enough that my boys were so young, they didn’t remember a president who wasn’t black.

I thought it was enough that I tried to keep up with the terminology. I thought using the words African-American, or the phrase people of color showed that I cared enough to acknowledge difference but show respect.

I worry that I’ve just said something that’s horribly offensive and disrespectful, and that is not my intent. What I am saying is that after watching the various videos of George Floyd’s arrest and restraint, I now know that what we’ve all been doing is not enough when it comes to understanding race relations in this country. I know that I have not been doing enough.

Over the past few days, I’ve been trying to keep my mouth shut and my ears open and listen. I’ve been reading firsthand accounts of what it means to be a person of color in this country, and it has been eye-opening.

One video showed a father teaching his 6-year-old daughter how to approach a police officer, repeating the phrase, “I mean you no harm,” as she held her hands over her head. I cannot imagine expecting a scared or lost or frightened child to need to have the composure to reassure adults she meant no harm before getting the help she clearly needed.

I’ve heard from my friends before about “the talk” that black parents have to have with their sons. In our house, “the talk” was the traditional awkward hourlong blab fest of words that I know my kids never wanted to hear coming out of my mouth about parts of their bodies they don’t even want to acknowledge exist.

However, for my black friends, this “talk” is a never-ending list of behaviors that must be avoided at all costs to lessen the chance that they will be arrested or shot simply for doing things that white people do every day without a thought.

I think back to the few times I’ve been pulled over by the police, usually for a minor traffic violation, or because I have a taillight out. Growing up in a small town invariably means that if I don’t know the officer personally, they probably knew my dad, or had my mom as a teacher, or maybe know my husband.

On more than one occasion, I didn’t have my license with me. Of course, I can never find my registration and insurance cards when I need them, so I’ve had to rummage around in the glove box, which always adds to the awkwardness of the situation. But that’s all it ever is: awkward.

I’ve never worried that something I do might be perceived as a threat, or that a simple traffic stop might escalate to a fatal encounter. Reading story after story about people who were stopped for the crime of “DWB” or driving while black, reading story after story about black people who were stopped because they “fit a description” and who were detained even after they proved that they couldn’t possibly have been the suspect in question, listening to firsthand accounts of people who were stopped by the police and truly afraid that they might die as a result, was heartbreaking. And eye opening.

We often use the phrase “walk a mile in their shoes.” A lecture by Jane Elliot, famous for her brown eyes-blue eyes experiment in the 1960s, asks people if they would volunteer to be black in America, and when no one takes the bait, she points out that it shows that the participants know that it means something different to be black than it does to be white.

I would venture a guess that most white people feel that way and wouldn’t be quick to volunteer if they were asked the same question.

The other thing I’ve heard this week is the response that “all lives matter.” I think the simple answer is, “of course they do.”

However, the best analogy I’ve heard to explain why we need to focus on Black Lives Matter is the one of the burning house. When your house is burning, the fire department doesn’t show up and say, “well, all houses matter.” No, they focus on putting out the fire in your house. I know people have been put off by the violence and the looting, and I too, am appalled by those actions, but they cannot be used to diminish those who are standing up and speaking the truth peacefully and intelligently. It also cannot diminish the fact that people feel that they have no choice but to go to these lengths to make their point.

One other statement I read this week started with the phrase, “I am smart enough I know what I don’t know.” I feel like that the world would be a much better place if more people had that mindset. I am smart enough to know that I don’t know a whole lot about how to fix racism. I am also smart enough to know that I’m going to make a lot of mistakes before I get things right. But it’s time to stop letting that hold me back.

One of my dad’s favorite quotes was from Booker T. Washington. “It is not possible for one man to hold another man down in a ditch without staying down there with him.” It’s time for me, and a lot of other people, to first of all admit that we are in that ditch, and then to start climbing out of it together.

Liz Pinkey is a contributing writer to the Times News. Her column appears weekly in our Saturday feature section.