Finding Hope In Disappointment

[Warning: this will be a very tough read for many. If you feel it doesn’t apply to you, then move on.]

I’ve been disappointed with the silence of my white friends for way too long.

I can post a picture of a Pop-Tart box and it will receive over 100 ‘likes’. But when I post anything about the pain I feel while witnessing yet another racial incident involving the death of a Black man or woman, it might receive 5 – 20.

While I understand that many only want to see ‘fun’ things in their social media timelines, I don’t have that luxury. I’m reminded on a daily basis that any miscue on my part could result in imprisonment or my death.

Ahmaud Arbery was murdered after being profiled/stalked while jogging through a neighborhood. Trayvon Martin was murdered after being profiled/stalked while on his way home from the store.

Their only crime was being Black and trying to defend themselves from their stalkers. And as we learned from the Zimmerman and Rittenhouse verdicts, my murder is ‘legal’ the moment that my attacker feels threatened. Each death, justified and validated by a system built on supporting white supremacy, is extremely painful.

I’m not asking for anyone to take responsibility for their deaths, or for verdicts that vindicate their killers. Nor am I asking for anyone to take responsibility for a system that was built to disenfranchise Black people on nearly every societal level.

Honestly, the only thing I want – need – to know is that my ‘friends’ care that I’m in pain watching these events happen over and over again. And, perhaps, that many other of their Black friends are also in pain. That’s all.

If you don’t want to post a public comment, I’ll accept an email or text asking “How are you?”. I have a handful of friends who reached out in that way after the Floyd murder. I’ve had others greet me in my post-lockdown re-emergence with “Are you okay with everything happening? You’ve been on my mind.”

Those moments have meant more to me than you will ever know.

From the vast majority, however, there has only been silence. I’ve referred to this silence in past posts. Now it seems that a much more direct approach is necessary.

If I were to be profiled/stalked during a work trip and died defending myself from my stalker, would you still be silent?

Would you be silent as my existence was reduced to the basest stereotypes that have been historically used against Black people? Would you be silent as defense lawyers and conservative pundits remarked at length about my guilty demeanor and dirty toenails?

I would hope not. History, however, has shown otherwise. I’ve tried not to assume the worst i.e. silence = complicity, but the silence has become deafening. Even if we disagree on the root causes, that doesn’t matter. If I tell you that something is painful and feels racially-motivated, believe my pain. I have better things to do than create MORE pain.

Recently, I shared my pain about the many national incidents of racism that are affecting the country to a group of white friends. Some reached out to acknowledge that pain. Others shied away from what they felt was a ‘political’ issue. For the record, racism and the pain it causes Black people IS NOT POLITICAL (though one particular political party excels in its practice).

And for God’s sake, don’t say anything about “both sides”. Both sides didn’t kneel on George Floyd’s neck. Both sides didn’t chase Ahmaud Arbery like an animal. Both sides don’t spend all their waking hours trying to justify Black death.

So in conclusion, a few things to remember:
Silence equals complicity,
Bothsidesism equals complicity,
Racism and racist behavior are NOT political.

If you don’t agree with my assessment, then do something that shows you care. Otherwise, accept that you are no better than the Chauvins and Zimmermans of the world, and the system that allows them to be so emboldened.