The second time I heard the story about George Floyd on the radio, it was probably Wednesday, May 27, I had to rush over and turn it off. I couldn’t listen to him gasping, “I can’t breathe.” I couldn’t hear a voice that I knew was killed moments later. It was a visceral response of disbelief, disgust, horror that made me weep.
I cannot imagine being there, hearing that. I cannot imagine being one of those cops who stood there for nearly nine minutes and did nothing. What kind of cold, angry, hateful heart does that come from?
It brought me back five and a half years to when I was at home on maternity leave, and the death of Eric Garner was in the news. He had also been suffocated by a cop. He had also pled for his life, gasping, “I can’t breathe.” I listened to those news reports on the radio –the protests, the bickering between the police force and Mayor Di Blasio – while comfortable and safe at home, day after day with my daughter. Then as now.
You could say it’s a coincidence. Sadly it’s not
Police violence against Black people is a daily occurrence in this country. Even when one of these killings does make the news, when it does get social media traction, there’s barely a blip of outrage. Disgust, sadness, disbelief, horror, yes. But it usually garners a simple shake of the head, maybe a hashtag of solidarity, or a fleeting mention in conversation. I’m guilty of all of it.
If there’s one positive thing out of these past couple of weeks of protest, it’s that this shit is not going away. We have all been shaken awake to our complicity in the problem. That all those times of bowing our heads and doing nothing more, we are to blame for the ongoing racism. Our silence has condoned ever act of violence, and every effort to undermine Blacks in school, entertainment, business, politics, sports, and just living life without being a target. What’s more, all along we thought things were getting better because we had a Black president, maybe we have Black friends and colleagues, we see shows like Black-ish and movies like Black Panther and delude ourselves that there is acceptance and equality.
Now, not only do we know that there is a national problem with police brutality, we realize that racism is rampant in every part of our American culture. And it’s time to change that.
I hope if you find yourself reading this, that you’re nodding your head in recognition or support. I’m horrified that I’ve unwittingly contributed to such a disgusting problem. But I am hopeful that my self-awareness is happening to millions of other Whites, and that the protests and legislation already introduced is snowballing into a massive change for our future.