Of course, there’s nothing wrong with being Caucasian or being male. But as a government body designed to represent the interests of the entire community, the Richmond City Council has historically not always lived up to that promise in its own composition; females, African-American people and various other populations have been wholly under-represented there, while white men have long held the majority of seats.

It’s an area of imbalance that ‘s easy to overlook when people spend so much time and energy examining the mix of Democrat versus Republican. Indeed, our culture has in many ways convinced us that “white and male” is normal while anything else is the exception; “minority representation is great if you can get it, but it’s not to be expected.”

It may be ironic, but as someone who cares deeply about having a community where everyone has a way to share their voice and where mutual respect is the norm, I’m challenged by the conventional wisdom that white males are the default profile for viable political candidates. I hope you are too.

I’m certainly glad to see that a number of my peer candidates are women and that a number of them are members of minority groups; this can only be a good thing for voters.

So if I’m so concerned about this, why am I even putting myself – another white man – up for consideration?

I’m campaigning because I believe I can do good in the cause of helping those whose voices have traditionally been minimized or disregarded find representation once again. I’m campaigning because I want to help transform some of the systems – however subtle they may be – that systemically discourage or prevent women and minorities from participating as equals in the political process. I’m campaigning because I don’t think there are enough people on City Council today who want or know how to put themselves in the shoes of others who are not like them, in the name of truly hearing those other voices.

I hope you’ll join me in envisioning a future where all parts of our community are represented well in government leadership, and where no one is discouraged from throwing their hat into the political process just because they’re not a white male.

It’s important to me to distinguish this way of being from the classical definition of what it means to be an introvert, “a person who is more interested in his or her own self than in in other people.” I know plenty of people who fit this definition well – they become so occupied with their inner existence and interests that they forget (or never learn) how to respond well to external stimuli, how to be sensitive to the physical and verbal signals given off by those around them, how to communicate well with others. While I understand and respect the ways that someone could manifest that personality, and while I see that they can find other ways to be brilliant communicators or express themselves magnificently, it’s very important to me to be sensitive to and interested in the beings and happenings in the world around me, as much as I am in my own self.

So if I’m not a classic introvert, what am I? I think I’m just someone who prefers to be quiet in settings where quiet is not always the norm. I do this in part as a way of bearing witness to the many kinds of ways in which there is not enough quiet in our lives.

I’m sometimes a quiet owner and principal of a small business, when so many of my counterparts have personalities or roles that require them to be loud and dominating in business meetings because that is what we are taught about how to be a good leader.

I’m sometimes a quiet man because so many man are taught that they must be loud (and manly in their loudness) in all but the most extreme circumstances. I’m quiet because I do not want to be a man who uses loudness as a way to play my manly part.

I’m sometimes quiet in conversations before I respond to something someone else has said, because when we get into a mode of speaking in rapid response or speaking out of a need to fill the silence, we aren’t able (I believe) to fully speak from the heart. When I allow a pause of a few seconds or even longer, I speak more from my true self.

I’m sometimes quiet around women because they have often experienced or been taught the same things about Real Men: they’re loud and in charge and the conversation will follow their pace, tone, and volume. I’m quiet here because I want to be in conversations with women that are not dominated by my volume or my gender, and where they can be loud if they want to without having to compete against me.

I’m sometimes a quiet friend in a circle of friends, because so often friendships are defined and enacted by making sure we all have enough to say to each other, that there is sufficient gossip, personal updates, and random observations to fill the time. I’m quiet because sometimes I want to experience friendship and be a friend without using the stream of words on which we are used to depending.

Learning to find my not-so-quiet voice and my louder noises for the times when loudness and firm voices are appropriate is another kind of growth that I’m still working on. But I enjoy practicing and refining the art and invigorating discipline of quietness, even in a world that does not often cherish such things.