Our Personal Stories
Every member of the WMRJ community engages in the personal reflection to understand how America’s racial history shows up today in their own lives. The men who have courageously shared these photo testimonials have come to understand their personal Yes/AND stories:
- Yes, we have worked hard, AND Whiteness has given us a head start and a relatively clear path to reach our full potential
- Yes, I have experienced struggle and hardship, AND I know that, unlike others, my hardship was not caused by my race
- Yes, we are 'good guys,' AND there still has been a gap between our beliefs and our actions
- Yes, some of us felt pretty knowledgeable, AND we didn't know what we didn't know
Tim Lord | New York
Memeber Since: 2025
I co-founded DreamYard, an arts and social justice education organization in the Bronx, 30 years ago. As DreamYard grew, I was very proud of our success, and felt it was due in large part to my own hard work.
Around 2012, three colleagues of mine at DreamYard, all Black women, asked me why I was doing this work, co-leading an organization that serves 100% Black and Brown children. I was 45 years old, 15 years into leadership, and I actually said, “Oh, I don’t see color.” They lovingly reminded me that Black and Brown people in America do not have that luxury. Thanks to their patience, I began to learn about systems that I now see helped make my success more likely.
YES I worked hard - AND philanthropy disproportionately supports White-led nonprofits, and supports them with more unrestricted funds. White-led nonprofits are likely felt to be more trustworthy because we look and sound more like donors with whom we share similar life experiences. Philanthropy is possible because of wealth compounded over generations for White households far more than for Black households because of centuries of Whites being advantaged over Blacks in education, housing, employment, and finance.
I can now hold two truths at the same time: I can be proud of my hard work and also see that the playing field is not level.
Alex Macdonald | Idaho
Memeber Since: 2025
I worked hard and sacrificed a lot over decades to become an airline pilot. AND, I had a cushion and comforts throughout my career that others didn’t.
Generations of family wealth allowed me to pursue my love of aviation without racking up insurmountable student debt; and I understand that building wealth in this country has been, and continues to be, a great deal easier for White folks than for people of color. Further, being White and male, like the vast majority in my position, I was surrounded by people who looked like me. I never had to fear not being accepted because of my gender or race. I never felt like I had to work twice as hard to prove my worth to overcome someone else’s bias about me being a ‘DEI hire.’ I never had to navigate comments or slurs from other pilots in the flight deck. I didn’t have to work extra hard to prove my worth.
Yes, I worked hard. AND yes, my appearance opened doors for me without me even having to knock. That’s the whole truth.
Andrew McConnell | Vermont
Memeber Since: 2025
I grew up hunting and fishing in east central Ohio. My love for the outdoors is rooted in those traditions. This photo made me look harder at what it means to be a White sportsman.
As a White man, I have never thought twice about rolling around New England in a truck full of firearms. I assume I will be treated as safe, reasonable, and like I’m in a place I belong. If I get pulled over, I do not worry that the presence of guns will change how I am seen or how the situation will end.
As a sportsman, I have not spent enough time thinking about why hunting and fishing remain so overwhelmingly white in the U.S. It is not just “interest.” It is history. A history of exclusion and segregation, lack of representation in outdoor media, fear of harassment or violence, and real financial barriers to gear, land access, and time.
Putting this out there makes me uncomfortable, because I know the stereotypes that come with this image of a White guy sportsman. These do not fully represent me or my values.
But that discomfort is part of the work. I want to be honest about what I get to take for granted, and what others cannot.
Scott Dirksen | Arkansas
Memeber Since: 2025
Growing up on a farm in Iowa, I believed one thing for sure: we earned everything. My family worked their asses off, gambling each year on weather and prices. My grandparents passed the farm down. I watched my dad pour sweat into every acre. In my mind, nobody handed us anything.
Then I learned the parts of the story we never talked about that knocked me back.
The U.S. government gave away roughly 270 million acres, about 10% of the country, mostly land taken from Indigenous communities, and it overwhelmingly benefited White families. Black families who tried to claim land were met with violence, discrimination at land offices, and being pushed off what they’d built.I also learned how the USDA helped White farmers grow and survive through loans and support programs, while Black farmers were routinely denied those same opportunities for decades.
So yes, my grandparents worked hard. My parents did too. But hard work is not the whole story for what we were able to keep, grow, and pass on.
This isn’t guilt talking. It’s just math and history. The question now is whether I’m willing to tell the truth about how advantage works, and whether I’ll support policies and practices that actually level the field.
Ryan Virtue | Ohio
Memeber Since: 2025
This is me in my element, using baseball to build confidence and bring joy to kids in my community, especially my own.
But as I looked around the field, something felt off. Most of the kids were white. I used to chalk that up to “who signs up.” Then I dug in and learned what’s really shaping the roster.
Black and Latinx youth are about twice as likely to live in places with more limited park access and less nice parks. Kids from households earning under $25K are far less likely to play sports. And kids from low-income families are much more likely to quit because the costs stack up fast: gear, fees, travel, even time.
In my town, options are everywhere. In many low-income communities, which are often communities of color because of the history of segregation, the nearest safe and nice field is far away, programs are underfunded, and families are already stretched.
It hit me that my ability to coach and serve on the Little League Board is its own kind of advantage. I can volunteer without needing to turn that time into income. I get to take advantage of a system built to make it easier for people like me to show up, lead, have this incredible experience with our own kids, and hopefully create the same for other kids in our community, who most of the time look just like mine.