I tried all day to think about something to write, but my head and soul is too full of resentment and grief to concoct anything creative right now. The world faces a pandemic. The U.S. faces — yet again — the realities of its inhumane roots sprouting into vines that weave throughout its so-called justice system in a way that protects people of one color at the expense of people of another.
Each night I go to bed quaking with rage at how police officers across the country seem to be given a literal get-out-of-jail-free card when it comes to brutality against Black human beings. And yet this is still my very one white privilege: I have been able to finally, fitfully, find sleep. There are too many people in my life — friends, co-workers, mentors — who have not slept at all, whether because of the sub-par administration justice in Minnesota or complete flouting of it in Kentucky, or simply because they know that in this “land of the free,” a cop could walk into their home, shoot them, and never face consequences.
Tonight I’m abandoning the land of make-believe to ask my white readers to do just a few simple things. They’re simple enough to be completed over your Saturday morning coffee:
1. Sign the petition at JusticeForBreonna.org to demand that Louisville’s mayor and city council address her murder; that her murderers be fired and arrested; that new law be put into place that calls for more transparency in police misconduct investigations; and that the 911 call be released to the public.
3. Read at least one (seriously — try just one) column or essay written by a Black person on the situation. Mass media is whitewashed, and too often we ignore important voices for famous ones. Start with Kellye Whitney’s blog post here. Then go look at the work done on Wear Your Voice magazine and other independent publications by people of color.
4. Make sure you’re registered to vote, and do your research on the local elections. The White House and Congress are crawling with vile, self-serving, racist, misogynistic, ableist, xenophobic, homophobic, transphobic troglodytes who have, believe it or not, very little bearing on the legal ramifications that local cops face — that’s where those smaller elections make a much bigger impact. Ensure we cut the power to the racist undercurrent powering police organizations by voting in new attorneys general, mayors, district attorneys, city councils and governors who are actually committed to dismantling the nonspecific “systems” they’re so fond of railing against on Twitter.
5. Commit names to memory — not just the big news names like Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor and George Floyd, but also Tony McDade, a trans man shot by an officer in Tallahassee. Yell these names out when someone near you starts going on and on about “not all cops” and “slavery and the Civil Rights movement are over — they can shut up now.”*
*Come to think of it, buy this shirt, too.
6. Check in with your Black friends. Just ask how they are, and what people have been doing that has helped them feel better. Then do that thing.
And if just one of these is just too hard for you to do, A) stop following my blog now (seriously: I don’t need or want you as a reader), and B) refrain from doing these things:
1. Reposting videos of George Floyd’s murder. Those who feel the need to see it can find it without you also putting it on the timelines of people who don’t need to see it to know that racist police brutality exists. And the bottom line is that the videos of LaQuan McDonald being shot 16 times here in Chicago, or Eric Gardner dying while yelling “I can’t breathe” haven’t done shit to deter the cops from committing these atrocities.
2. Complaining about looting. Just once I want someone to be more appalled at the murder of Black human beings than they are at the theft of $30 table lamps from a Target. If this is you, you need to sit down and think about that for a minute.
3. Using the term “not all cops” or “not all white people.” If hearing white people being called out for the atrocities they’ve committed bothers you more than the atrocities themselves, then you didn’t think long and hard enough about #2 on this list and need to go back to your corne
I don’t get blatantly political on this blog, so just the nature of this post should say something about how important these actions are to me. A large part of our population can’t do the mere minimum — jog, sleep, walk down a street, stand on a sidewalk, relax in their own backyards — to survive without fearing that someone paid and empowered by their own tax dollars could kill them and face minimal, if any, consequences.
I’d say that’s not the America I know, but it’s exactly the America I know — I’ve just been afforded the privilege of not experiencing it first-hand. The change has to start somewhere. It might as well start with us.