Black History Month is nearly upon us, which is a timely time for me to confess something that I'm ashamed it took me over three decades to realize: I'm white. And I don't know what I can do about it.

Black people, I know you probably really appreciate my internet efforts to prove to you that I totally get what you are going through. Of course, I cannot actually get what you are going through, except that by me writing these words, I know that I really am demonstrating that I get it.

Most other white first world privileged people are just blithely living in a world of white first world privilege. They are so steeped in privilege that they don't even realize it. They don't even understand what a--excuse me, this is really emotional for me--trigger word privilege is. Me, on the other hand--I see the privilege everywhere I go, and it fills me with shame. Every time I catch a cab, I want to vomit. Each time I realize the lack of politics imbued in my hair, I want to sob. All the times I get arrested for drunk driving and my lawyer dad gets me out of it, I want to cut myself.

I also really liked Orange is the New Black. (This is NOT an endorsement of Julianne Hough going out in blackface!!! Do NOT get me started on blackface.)

So I just want you to know, if I could do something about being white, I would. It is a daily struggle for me to find a way to make it up to all of you people (and I don't mean "you people," you know, like, in the bad way. I just mean, all of you black people.)

In the meantime, you can find me on Twitter, taking screengrabs of all untoward comments made about Beyonce and Jay-Z's marriage, Richard Sherman, and "12 Years a Slave." You don't need to thank me--it's the least I can do. Am I a hero? No, not until we can rest assured knowing that the word "hero" is not automatically associated with me, a white woman.

Just remember, my brothers and sisters, I feel you. One love. Except for the Asian driver who cut me off in traffic this morning.