Dear White Friends: Does My Black Life Matter?
A man was lynched on 25 May 2020 — George Floyd (1974–2020). He was 46 years old. He is survived by his fiancé and two children. Black men…
A man was lynched on 25 May 2020 — George Floyd (1974–2020). He was 46 years old. He is survived by his fiancé and two children. Black men have been victims of lynchings in this country, every year since its founding 243 years ago. The United States has not skipped in a beat in that respect. Lynching is so commonplace in this country we should consider it as quintessentially American as Fourth of July celebrations and baseball games. And here we are again — like clockwork. I am often tardy to respond in a public way during these particular moments of strife because they occur with such regularity — they are as predictable as seasonal change. What, if anything new, can you say about the transition from spring to summer? And yet, here I am again because some of you — people I love and respect — are still surprised or have trouble comprehending the realities of living in America and living with our history. So, I will try again.
I am writing primarily to my white friends, acquaintances, and colleagues. If this extends beyond those who I personally know, great, if not, then so be it. I am writing to those individuals who have forged relationships with me, and anyone who claims to value me. I do so because while I believe America needs to have a nationwide conversation about race. However, those conversations do not have to start at the national level. I would not trust the national leadership with that charge anyway. Those conversations should begin on a very interpersonal level. I write this to expand upon a conversation I had with a friend who’s reaction to the recent events was initially quite different from mine. So for that person, sorry if you read this and notice some repetition. But, my intentions for that conversation were not to argue nor even to convince him of anything. I often leave those efforts to my professional life. I intended to show him a different perspective. Again, I want to share a different perspective and open up those lines of communication even though I should not have to initiate it.
The last time I wrote something like this was before the start of my second year of grad school. I wrote about America’s need for a wake-up call. In August 2017, Neo Nazi’s marched on Charlottesville, VA and rallied around statues to Thomas Jefferson and Robert E. Lee. Before they left, they injured dozens of people. They took the life of Heather Heyer — all to uphold and protect racist ideologies and the symbols that represent those ideologies. Anti-racist protestors were met with police force as they guarded the Lee statue. Commenting on those events, our President, Donald J. Trump, exclaimed, “There were very fine people on both sides.”
The state was protecting hate. It continues to protect and sever hate and, in that service, perpetuates it. Once again, the state has served hate by enacting violence, yet again, against black bodies. How much more violence against black bodies must we endure? More pointedly, how much more state-sanctioned violence against black bodies must we endure? Let’s not forget who is at fault here. Another black man is dead at the hands of the U.S. government.
My libertarian boys, where y’all at? I thought you all hated big government. I thought you hated government overreach. Oh, do you only hate big government when it “oppresses” you through stay at home orders, and taxes and healthcare spending and social programs? Where’s that smoke for when the government kills their own citizens or when they treat black neighborhoods like occupied wars zones? Where’s that smoke for when they run over protesters and teargas little girls and fire paint rounds into people’s homes? Where’s that smoke for when the government continues to incarcerate black people and deprive black their communities of resources? Where is your ire for the government then?
George Floyd’s murder was not the result of the actions of four rogue actors. Of course, they hold a brunt of the blame, and they should be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. (I will not say their names here because I do not make a habit of privileging the identities of terrorists over those terrorized.) However, we need to come to terms with the fact that an arm of the U.S government killed a man as he pleaded for his life while others had to watch in horror and fear. If they intervened, they could be next. This type of violence has been enacted both by particular individuals and an institution to which we fund with our tax dollars and whose charge it is to protect our communities and us. Protect and serve, right?
The International Association of Chiefs of Police law enforcement oath of honor states:
“On my honor, I will never betray my badge, my integrity, my character, or the public trust. I will always have the courage to hold myself and others accountable for our actions. I will always uphold the constitution, my community, and the agency I serve.”
That is their charge. That is the oath to which they have committed themselves. But, that is s not the reality, is it? This violent arm of the government has consistently shown that there are separate sets of protocols for different types of people. It has consistently shown that black rights, freedoms, liberties, and due processes are not equally valued or worth protecting. It is a problem when scenarios are escalated to the point of death when there is no need for them to be. That is not upholding the public trust. That is not accountability. That is not serving the community. That is not justice.
But, some of you still wonder why the protest? Why the riots? Why the destruction? What would you do if the state continually met you, your community, and people that look like you with violence generation after generation? And the only reason was because of your skin color. At what point would you say enough is enough and fight back. Or, is fighting back only reserved for Sons of Liberty in Boston at a Tea Party. Black boys and men just like me across this nation are sons. Where is our liberty? This is not just about individual cops or this one instance. This is about something much deeper. This is about something systemic. This is something intrinsic to the police’s foundation as an institution in our country since they were first formed as slave catchers. It is also intrinsic to America’s foundation when it was first formed by slave catchers.
There is something categorically wrong and systemically dysfunctional when as a black boy in this country, you can be shot at 12 years for playing with a toy gun. There is something wrong when you can be choked and killed for selling loose cigarettes on the street as a black man. There is something categorically wrong and systemically dysfunctional when I wonder if I will be murdered at a routine traffic stop because recent history has shown me it is both a possibility and damn near an inevitability. There is something wrong when black men and women can be killed in your own home at the hands of law enforcement by “mistake.” Or, in the case of George Floyd, be a suspect in a non-violent crime and have an officer take you to the ground and place his knee on your neck for 8 minutes and 45 seconds while you gasp for air.
There is something categorically wrong and systemically dysfunctional when peaceful protests are made violent. When large gatherings of black people in their community come together and demand justice for someone’s murder but are met with teargas and rubber bullets. Meanwhile, white protestors, armed to the teeth, can storm state capitol buildings, protesting stay at home orders, and meet no such resistance. In one case, the state responded to peace with violence. In the other, the state was met with violence and responded with indifference.
We have to address the system that allows for that. More importantly, you need to dismantle that system. Because I did not create it. Black people did not create it. And if it is not dismantled, this will continue to happen again, and again, and again. George Floyd’s murder is something all too familiar in this country. It is all too familiar to me. I internalize it, and unfortunately, the trauma and anxiety that stems from it will not heal because there will be another George Floyd. And when there is, expect the riots and expect businesses to burn because experience tells us that for black people, violence is the only way to be heard in this country. And I am not sad or sorry about either. I am not sad or sorry about destroyed property. I will not apologize because people are defending themselves against state-sanctioned violence. If you find yourself condemning the protest or the riots more than what led to them, that is a problem. If you bemoan about how uncomfortable you feel because things near you are getting loud and broken, but you are not uncomfortable when the state kills its own citizens, that is a problem.
Black people have tried and continue to try peaceful protest. Colin Kaepernick knelt, and people thought it was the end of the world. He tried to give America peace, and he was blackballed for it. I guess that was not the peace the country was looking for? America continues to turn its nose up at peace because that is a language it does not understand. It is a foreign tongue. History shows that the media and by in large a broad portion of Americans only pay attention to black bodies, black pain, injustices towards black people, and black death when we get violent. It is often the only way deeply seeded problems are remedied in this country. Because violence is America’s native tongue. And whether or not we like it, all of us are fluent.
However, I want you all to be better than this. Ultimately, I did not write this to talk just about cops. I genuinely want you all to understand that I do not hate cops. I hate bad cops and the good cops that protect the bad ones. I hate the racist systems that serve and protect them, not us. I also did not write this just to talk about protesting and riots. This is about race, racism, and our unwillingness to talk about them. It is about our reluctance to keep having deep and meaningful conversations about them. It is about the deeply-seeded, nefarious, and the often elusiveness of racism in its overt and covert forms. I hate the degree to which friends and colleagues that I have come to cherish remain ignorant on the matter. Either you know and ignore it or you do not care to know. The cops did not kill Amad Aubrey. They did not kill black churchgoers in Charleston, South Carolina. And they did not kill Trayvon Martin — overt racism did. Overt racism that was allowed to fester and grow and spread covertly in those individuals and in the collective unconsciousness of America. No one is born racist — it is learned. And whether you accept it or not — at one time or another — you have bore witness to that covert racism and maybe even learned a few things yourselves. But, you can unlearn it. So, I want to speak to you all very plainly and explain the consequences of only paying attention to racism in its most heinous forms.
I am your friend — your black friend. For some of you, your only black friend. I do not get to stop being that, nor would I want to. But in acknowledging that and accepting it, you also must acknowledge and accept that because I am your black friend, we do not live the same lives. We never have. For some of you, we went to high school, college or graduate school together. But, we do not live the same lives. We have had lectures and seminars together. But, we do not live the same lives. We worked together. But, we do not live the same lives. We have gone to restaurants, movies, and museums together. But, we do not live the same lives. We have explored new cities together, gone on road trips together, and traveled through Europe together. But we do not live the same lives. I am your friend in many ways because we are similar, but I also respect and appreciate our differences. Do you do the same for me? Whether you are aware of it or not during all those good times, we were living in entirely different realities. I remind you that, while we have had such great times together and it may not have seemed to you that race was ever a problem — it was.
Amidst the fun and joyful experiences we have had together, you did not see a lot of things. You did not see the bewilderment on my face when professors and instructors were shocked that I was “so articulate and well spoken” in those lectures and seminars. You did not see my reaction at the party where others cheekily sang along to rap songs determined to have me notice them say “nigga” Or, maybe you did. You did not see the guy who spat at me out of his car window as he yelled, “Nigger!” while I walked those same city streets we explored together. You did not see the embarrassment I experienced when we went to Fat Heads on the Southside. Upon seeing my driver’s license with my dreadlocks, the waitress remarked, “Huh. This must have been back in your gangster days.” Yes, there were was nervous laughs, but business as usual after. You did not see me turn down my music in the presence of cops or clinch up when they drive behind me. You did not see my heart sink into my feet, and my hands shake when those red and blue lights turn on even if they after the car in front of me. You did not see the stares I received as I traveled overseas to France, Germany, England, and Italy. You were there for those stares. And still, you do not seriously see how much this event and events like it continue to deeply affect me and how with each instance, another piece of me is stripped away.
At times, I feel as though you all forget that I am black because you want to be colorblind as if that is a good thing for you or me. We do not live in a colorblind society. We never will, nor should we aspire to at this point. Because if you pretend you do not see my color, that will not stop America from seeing it. I want you to see my color. See it. Do not just look — understand it. Because when you do see it, you see me. You do not necessarily see who I am because of my color, but instead, you see how I have to walk through this world. If you decide to be colorblind, then you refuse to see what comes as a side effect of my color. If you continue to be shocked and surprised at the truth of what this country has done, continues to do, and will continue to do to black people then you condemn yourself to a friendship wherein you are woefully ignorant and blind to the prejudice and the hate that I experience — that those who look like me experience. And if that is the case, then why are we friends? How do you think that makes me feel? Well, I’ll tell you.
What is that James Baldwin quote? “To be a Negro in this country and to be relatively conscious is to be in a rage almost all the time.” That is as true now as it was fifty years ago, and sadly, it will be true fifty years from now. My apologies. I am not an optimist. If you are looking for optimism, please put this away. I feel rage. However, I want you all to understand that rage is not that which can only be expressed outwardly. Rage, as Baldwin spoke about, is a state of being. I do not have to scream and yell to show my rage — and do not think for a second because I do not I am not fuming under the surface. Rage can also be internalized, and when it is there are costly effects on black bodies. You feel suffocated. #ICantBreathe. A weight that seems insurmountable rest on your chest as your body shakes, and your voice trembles. I hold back tears as I call my father just to say, “Dad. I am tired of this.” Rage kills, and it is killing me and black people just like me all over the world.
As I prepared to write this, I was not exactly sure of what to say nor how to say it. I did not fully know why I was writing this, nor did I know what I wanted to highlight. I have been rereading and watching interviews of black intellectuals whom I have studied and admire. I have been reflecting on some black lives that mattered and still matter, and in doing so, one word comes to mind. As I reflect on the murder of George Floyd, one word comes to mind. As I reflect on the murder of Breonna Taylor, one word comes to mind. As I reflect on the murder of Amaud Arbrey, one word comes to mind. As I reflect on the murder of Freddie Gray, one word comes to mind. As I reflect on the murder of Sandra Bland, one word comes to mind. As I reflect on the murder of Philando Castile, one word comes to mind. As I reflect on the murder of Tamir Rice, one word comes to mind. As I reflect on the murder of Laquan McDonald, one word comes to mind. As I reflect on the murder of Mike Brown, one word comes to mind. As I reflect on the murder of Trayvon Martin, one word comes to mind. That word is value. Because at the end of the day, isn’t that what is at the heart of this? It is a question of value. America does not value black bodies. Do you?
I have seen some of you all posts, “I understand that I will never understand, but I stand.” I get why that makes sense for some people. You are saying that you will never know what it is like to be black in America. You want to express empathy, which is lacking these days. But, quite frankly, I am over empathy. Do not get me wrong; continue to express empathy. But, in that empathy, find action. Do not say sorry to me. I want action. I want you to do more. I want to do more, and I want to do more with you all. That does not mean I expect you to march, get maced, tased, or beaten down for me. But to suggest that you will never understand, I call bullshit. It is true, none of you will ever be black. You will never live the black experience. But that does not mean you cannot understand. Of course, you can, because you can educate yourselves and I want you. I plead that you do. I want you to read. I want you to challenge yourself. I want you to get uncomfortable. I want you to have hard conversations with me, your other black and non-white friends, with your white friends, your parents, and, most importantly, with yourselves. Because after you do, with sincerity, you should understand why there are disparities in incarceration between white and black people. You should understand why the war on drugs is racist. You should understand why I see the Confederate flag as a symbol of hate. You should understand why mortality rates for black people are the highest in the country, especially amongst black women and black mothers. You should understand why numerous black communities around the country are impoverished and why black schools are underfunded and why many black communities are food deserts. You should understand why there is a racial wealth gap. Those are just a few things.
But to understand those things, you have to think about value. Is this something worth of value to you? Is it worth the effort? And, does my black life matter to you? Does it have value to you? Because if it does then, that value cannot only extend to my life. It has to be all black lives that matter. Saying black lives matters and believing it does not mean you are saying they matter more than yours or any other lives. We say black lives matter because for a lot of people in this country they do not matter. For the United States, they do not matter. And often, I feel as though my black life does not matter either.