I sat perplexed in the glass enclosure of the prison facility. I was about to meet with a sex offender that had no interest in dealing with the issues of his offense.  I knew that without his cooperation I couldn't impact his views on women or elicit any victim empathy. As custody led him to me I knew that this week I had no strategy.  I was going to have to punt.

"After seven months of working with you, you still not only refuse to speak to me but won't even look me in the eyes."  The offender slowly raised his head and stared straight into my eyes.
"I don't look nobody in the eyes…Unless I'm getting ready to hurt 'em. You know what I mean? You know, fight 'em or something."  Okay, I thought.  Progress. He looked at me and he spoke to me.

"I don't know what this is. In-group we've talked about misogyny.  But you know what? I don't think that's the only problem.  Anyway, if I'm going to continue to see you we need to set a goal.  We can either work on your feelings about women or we can work on your attitude toward your victim," I paused.

I wasn't finished but was unsure of what was coming next. I was picking up on something.  From out of no- where my gut started pulling me. "Or we could work on race issues," I added.  The young man again looked me in the eyes.  "Can't do that," he said. Again, I was confused. "Why can't you?"  He didn't have to answer. I looked around the glass cage at the white guards and understood. "Yes, we can," I assured him.

His response was subtle.  The young black man, who prided himself in being the toughest, became restless.  The response from my gut was as profound as anything I had ever felt.  I seized the moment.  Without taking the time to edit myself I started talking from my heart - with no idea where it would lead.

"Please, look at me again.  I know how hard it must be for you to trust me - a middle-aged, white female.  You must believe that I have no idea what you've been through, that I don't know what it's like to be hated for the color of my skin. And you're right. I don't know how it feels to be put down and disliked for my skin.  I do know what it's like to be put down, mistreated and denied opportunity because of my sex.  I've been hated just because I'm a woman."

The young misogynist sat motionless, staring down into his lap.  I saw no resistance to my words and continued. "I have seen what some white people do.  I've been disgusted and offended by their jokes.  I've been offended by their language and I've been ashamed to be white.

I apologize to you for every time that white people have hurt you. I don't apologize because I ever did these things. I swear to you I have never hated or mistreated anyone because of his or her color. I apologize to you because I truly am sorry that there are people who behave that way.  I give you my word that not only do I not laugh at racist jokes but I tell them to stop.  I tell them it offends me. If you want to work on race issues that's what we'll do."

He looked me in the eyes again but this time his eyes had softened.  "You don't tell them to stop," he said.
I smiled and nodded, remembering one of my episodes of mischief. "One time I went into a rib joint to pick up a carry out.  Inside there was a bunch of white people slamming blacks.  I told them that I didn't appreciate those remarks.  I told them that the father of my children was black and that they had no right. I acted mad and their faces were real red."
The young man laughed, "You have mixed kids."
"No, but they don't know that."

I took the young man back out and reluctantly handed him over to the guards.  I felt a profound sense of relief. Sitting alone and soaking up the moment I thought of the recent debate about an apology for the slavery and oppression endured by black Americans.  I didn't understand the debate. No, I didn't do it. And in fact have spent my life challenging racist jokes and stereotypes.  But I am still sorry. Just like I am sorry everytime a woman is raped or a child is killed. Just like I am sorry for war and the assassinations of our great leaders.

As I walked across the facility to my car I remembered the first time I was sickened by racism. In the first grade I invited a little girl home for lunch.  As we sat at the kitchen table my father walked in. He stood in the doorway of the kitchen in his stiffly pressed I.P.D. uniform. His gun hung close to his hip.  He yelled words at Caroline that I had never heard before.  I was confused.  When I looked over at Caroline again she was gone.  Caroline never spoke to me again and I never felt the same about my father.

After battling him for over 30 years over everything from the movie To Sir With Love to the music of The Supremes I realized I couldn't change him.  But my children do not perpetuate the hate that could have been part of their heritage. That I could change.

I drove off with no idea how the young offender felt about my offer to work with him on the trauma that racism had caused him.  I did know that the opportunity to apologize to him had deeply affected me.
The next week when custody brought the young man to me his eyes met mine.  He spoke freely about his crime and his victim.  This was the first time since he had been in the facility that he had taken responsibility for his crime.

Maybe it was just a coincidence. Or maybe hearing me acknowledge his pain helped him to acknowledge the pain he caused his victim.  Maybe seeing me take responsibility for the injustice that whites have saddled him with helped him to take responsibility for the trauma he perpetrated.  If we want to teach responsibility and compassion then we must exhibit those virtues.  If we want to teach denial and rationalization then we only need to continue as we have.

Are we, as a nation, so cold and callous that like an unremorseful rapist or killer we can feel no sorrow for another human's pain? Eventhough I didn't "do it," my ancestors did.  I am sorry for the pain and oppression of all the Caroline's in this nation.  I am ashamed that remorse for this oppression became a national debate.  As small as it may be the Victim's Justice Center Inc. also offers a sincere apology to all that have been hurt by those who feel no empathy or shame.