Where Are We Safe?
The murder of Botham Shem Jean in Dallas has once more caused Black people in America to grapple with this question.

By Brent Johnson
On the evening of Friday, September 7, I sat down next to my husband on our couch and opened Twitter on my phone — a familiar, end of the week routine after a long work week. What had been a simple hope of mindlessly scrolling through my feed to catch up on news, or laugh at a funny gif, quickly gave way to an all too familiar feeling for many young Black men just like me.
Numerous posts confronted me with details about a shooting in Dallas, Texas — the city where I was born and raised.
I continued scrolling. “White police officer.” I continued scrolling. “Unarmed Black man.” I continued scrolling. “Shot dead in his own apartment.”
At that moment, the scrolling stopped.
Before digging any deeper into what I knew would be a tragic story, I compulsively felt the need to center and prepare myself for the reality that I may know the young man who was killed. While I would have known by then if he were a family member, the fact that this had, again, happened in Dallas gave me worry.
It turns out that I did not know Botham Shem Jean, but I feel as though I did.
Botham graduated from the same undergraduate institution — Harding University in Arkansas — as my older brother. Botham attended Dallas West Church of Christ, a church whose minister and family were my neighbors for years. Botham led songs during church service on Sundays, just as I had when growing up in the same Dallas neighborhoods. I imagine the touch points and similarities don’t end there. Botham could have been a friend, cousin, brother.
Botham could have been me.
Instead, he now occupies a place on a long list that is filled with the names of unarmed Black boys and men who were killed by police officers.
The reality is that police involved shootings of unarmed Black boys and men have sadly become what feels like a new normal. And while this case is slightly different because the officer had just gotten off of her shift, and was not “on duty,” the fact remains that I, my husband, my brother, and a generation of young Black men like us, have had to learn how to cope with the trauma — yes, it is trauma — produced by these killings, these images, and the exonerations.
Though it has been a week since Botham’s tragic death, many questions remain that simultaneously don’t make any sense and remain unanswered. Yet for me, these questions seem at worst irrelevant and at best small compared to one, simple, universal fact. Twenty-six-year-old Botham Shen Jean was in his home. Minding his business. Unarmed. Living. Existing. But he is no longer alive — taken too soon from his family, friends, and community by a White police officer’s bullet. Just as Michael Brown was. And Tamir Rice. And Walter Scott. And Stephon Clark. And Jordan Edwards. And Laquan McDonald. The list does not end there.
I have cried many tears, and my emotions have ranged from sadness to anger to frustration, and back to sadness again, because of Botham’s death. I have also asked myself many questions, always coming back to one: How can I come to terms with the concept of safe space if, as this case has proven, you cannot even be safe in your own home?
I am still grappling with that question. Because the questions related to the killings of unarmed Black boys and men should not be questions that I have to answer. And young Black men should not have to deal, or be comfortable with, coping with such intense levels of trauma. The burdens of being Black in America are enough.
What brings me a small amount of solace is that I go to work every day at The Leadership Conference on Civil and Human Rights — an organization committed to fighting for a wide array of civil and human rights issues, including policing reform.
It is my hope and prayer that I can honor Botham by playing a role in ensuring that there is accountability in our justice system, for that is when we will see an America as good as its ideals.
Brent Johnson is the manager of executive operations at The Leadership Conference on Civil and Human Rights.





