I'm frantic with impotent despair. Life can't continue normally without acknowledging this gaping wound in our human world. There is a sickness, a hateful sickness in the air. I can't understand anything right now. I can't understand the butchering of young people in a bakery in Bangladesh. I can't understand how 200+ lives were blasted away by a car bomb in Baghdad. I can't understand all of the American black men killed by police. I can't understand these holes being torn into our families and our communities around the world. I want to patch them all up, demand someone pay, get revenge, make it stop, make it right. I can't post cute selfies, celebrate a birthday, fill my kitchen with good smells of cooking, or binge watch Netflix. Not until I take a moment to gaze directly into this painful monster of a thing, shine a light on it, poke the wound, feel it and see it and say out loud "this is real."
Last week, I attended a 4th of July parade in a middle class white neighborhood. The cop cars idled by as part of the parade, flashing their lights, throwing candy and dog biscuits out the windows, and the (mostly white) children shouted and laughed and dashed around collecting the sweets. How different these early experiences of the police must be for these kids, compared to the ones in the predominantly black neighborhoods a few miles down the road. White people get to teach our children that they live in a world of law and order where justice exists and their lives will be protected. We can teach them "go find a police officer if you ever need help." When a cop car drives down our street, we may not even notice, or maybe a voice in the back of our minds says "oh good, this symbolizes safety." What about the mothers of black children? What very different lessons do they have to teach their children about how to stay alive and safe in this world? They teach their children not to walk too quickly when they see a police car, don't wear certain clothing, don't say certain things, never make a sudden movement, never run, never talk back, never argue or show anything other than docile respect when talking with a police officer... and still the body count of unarmed black men climbs.
This is not me saying "cops are racist." Cops are not the problem. I think most cops are probably good people who want to protect and serve. The endemic racism built into the very structure of our society is the problem. Cops are not racist. Our culture is racist. People will argue with this truth because sadly, a hallmark feature of systemic oppression is that society is structured in such a way that the existence of this oppression is invisible to those with privilege. Peggy McIntosh famously said in her article, White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack, "It seems to me that obliviousness about white advantage...is kept strongly inculturated in the United States so as to maintain the myth of meritocracy, the myth that democratic choice is equally available to all. Keeping most people unaware that freedom of confident action is there for just a small number of people props up those in power, and serves to keep power in the hands of the same groups that have most of it already" (McIntosh, 1988.... read the whole thing here).
It's also easy to feel like my white voice doesn't have a place to speak on tragedies impacting the black community or cultures far away, but silence also means acceptance, and I can't accept this. I don't know what to do other than launch these words into the world and fill a tiny bit of silence to say, I denounce hate and violence, down the street from me and across the world. I will never stay quiet when conversations drift into uncomfortable territory, or when I need to challenge my own behaviors and assumptions, because I know those little seemingly innocuous seeds are deadly, and silence is the fertile soil in which they take root. And I want my black friends to know that these outrageous truths are not invisible to me; I see them, and I feel the crushing weight and heartbreak and anger for you. To the strangers in other countries, trying to live normal peaceful lives with the constant threat that a crazy violent extremist could appear in the grocery store and hurt you or someone you love... I see you. You matter to me.
There are so many people I have not mentioned yet: Victims of rape, domestic abuse, LGBTQ friends, enslaved people, immigrants being spat at in England, immigrants afraid of the same coming to the US, muslims around the world, the list is long. I guess this is all just a longwinded way to say, to the people of the world who are marginalized, terrorized, and reeling, I stand with you. I see you, and you matter.
