We Still Can’t Breathe, But One Day We Will
NOTE: This essay was originally published in 2015, not long after the Department of Justice’s finding that Officer Darren Wilson probably shot Mike Brown in self-defense, but that the Ferguson Police Dept. had engaged in systematic racism against the black citizens of Ferguson, Missouri. The recent massacre at Charleston, Virginia’s black AME Church was also on my mind. It has been revised and edited since its original publication for clarity. I also edited out a section on “blackness” because they never truly reflected my views at the time, and were written to try and conform with the activism of the time. Hyperlinks have been added.
Being a black man in the United States, I find it prudent to comment on the discussions of racism that have sprung up in recent months. I had planned to speak on this issue in due time, but as the tragedies added up, the urgency of the times demanded the urgency of my conscience. So I write this in haste, and in hope, that it reaches the conscience of every American.
We are at a crossroads in this country. It seems inevitable that we be thrown before it, a moment when we must once again confront our ugly racial history. Time and again, we’ve heard tired political rhetoric about “having a conversation on race.” Though racial issues faded in and out of the media lens during Obama’s presidency (Trayvon Martin, Professor Gates’s arrest, and even Obama himself being among them), I don’t doubt that Americans have had various informal conversations on race throughout. The trouble, it seemed, was getting traction, a movement which would force America to heal these wounds. Now, this isn’t to say that there haven’t been people of goodwill acting on behalf of black people before this moment, but they haven’t quite received the sustained national spotlight we have now. I know not where the movement ends, but I know where it goes.
I must admit that I’ve never had to confront race much in my life. I grew up affluent, in a mixed race community. Not once have I endured a bigotry from a white person, though I might very well feel such in the future. Indeed, I am very fortunate, privileged even, to have seen for myself the love that springs from an interracial community. Though I know that others who share my color have not seen such a promise, and struggle to believe in it. I’d be wise not to use my personal experience to negate the negative ones. I’ve had to listen and understand all sides of being black in America.
It is obvious the racism is nowhere near as hellish as during the age of “Jim Crow”, but still, its horrors persist. This became obvious to me during my more libertarian days in college. I was fiercely opposed to the War on Drugs (I still am) and I knew well the statistics. That blacks were more likely to be caught for possession of marijuana and often get longer sentences than white people for the same “crimes”, if smoking pot can be called a crime. Blacks overflow our prisons and suffer the most abject poverty. Much like sexism in the “pay gap”, I don’t believe that race is the only factor in these problems. However, it remains a significant matter, who’s role shouldn’t be denied.
Then came Trayvon Martin, an unarmed black teenager killed on his walk home. The matter was far from simple, but I lay a great deal of responsibility on George Zimmerman. The police told him to stay in his car, but he refused, eager perhaps, for vigilante justice. Just what Trayvon did to alert Zimmerman is an enigma. It’s very likely that Zimmerman racially profiled him, after all, he was wearing a hood. Indeed, I’ve walked long nights in my hood as well, could Trayvon have been me, my future cut short? I realize that there was a struggle between the two, which left Zimmerman bloodied and Trayvon dead. We may never know exactly what occurred between the two that night, which is why Zimmerman was eventually acquitted. It couldn’t be proved that Zimmerman didn’t shoot Trayvon in self-defense. I think the jury made the right call, albeit a tough one, and there are some who believe that Zimmerman was justified that night. I’m not so sure. Zimmerman has since shown poor moral character, disregarding the law, scaring away his wife, and selling Confederate flag prints. Zimmerman’s foolishness came from attempting to perform a duty best reserved for the police, though even the effectiveness of the men in blue has been called into question.
Michael Brown’s death was not captured on video, like many of the other killings that followed his. All we knew was that an unarmed black man was killed once more, this time, not by a delusional neighborhood watchman, but by a cop. Brown’s death proved thornier than Trayvon’s. Darren Wilson, unlike Zimmerman, had reason to go after Brown, for his cigarillo theft. Such a petty crime hardly warrants the death penalty on the streets, but alas. Wilson and Brown engaged in a struggle near Wilson’s car, I can’t say for certain who started it, but it’s very likely that Brown tried to snatch Wilson’s gun, to which Wilson shot him. If I recall the Justice Department’s report correctly, it’s unlikely that Wilson shot Brown in the back or that Brown put his hands up in surrender. Brown, it seems, was initially on the run from Wilson, but then ran back. Why he did this is uncertain. Wilson believed that Brown was after his life again, based on their previous encounter. So he shot the charging Brown several times, until a shot in the head ended his life. Brown’s body then lay on the pavement for four hours.
The Justice Department concluded that from a legal standpoint, Wilson was exonerated from any wrongdoing, as he had good reason to believe that his life was in lethal danger. Indeed, other credible witnesses interpreted Brown’s last charge in much the same way. From a legal viewpoint, Wilson was justified, but as to whether or not he was justified from a moral standpoint, I’ll not comment as I know too little. That’s between him and his conscience. My reasons for not wholly embracing Wilson, and even Brown, spring from too many questions. Did Brown truly mean to kill Wilson during that final run at him? When Brown earlier tried to grab Wilson’s gun, would he have killed him? Could Wilson have deescalated the situation and found a non-violent resolution? Is a cop ever justified in killing an unarmed man? How do you mourn a person who might have attempted to kill a cop?
I don’t expect definitive answers to these questions, nor do I expect closure, indeed, they haunt my soul. I fear that many minds are ill-suited to address these issues, as we tend to view matters in rigid moral dichotomies. Absolutes on our moral perspectives are certainly necessary, but perhaps we need to look at these sensitive issues differently. Less in terms of good or bad people, and more in terms of good or bad actions and systems. If one believes that Wilson behaved out of line, then perhaps the problem is less with Wilson himself, than with the protocol he was trained in. It is a difficult conversation, as I know cops have a difficult job, but we must be critical of how often lethal shots are brought to unarmed citizens. When figures in authority act without accountability, then the inevitable result is abuse. If one believes that Wilson was justified, then they should also recognize that Michael Brown was a flawed human being, not a murderous gangster. Brown may have fought with Wilson, and may have tried to kill him, but should we see Brown completely through that one act?
John Eligon’s profile of Brown for The New York Times has received a lot of vitriol for calling Brown “no angel”. While the wording may have been regrettable, I hardly think that it was deserving of such fury. The controversy might’ve distracted from the point of the article itself, which was to show that Brown was an ordinary teen trying to overcome the odds. Whenever I hear his parents speak, I am moved, their pain is real. Brown’s life had the potential to be great, a tragedy that it should end in one foolish act of aggression. Wilson’s interview with the New Yorker disappointed me. While it could be argued that he may very well have done the right thing, he showed no interest seeing Brown as a person, or examining the greater racial issues in his police department. The significance of Ferguson flew right over his head.
In the end, Michael Brown may not have been the victim of racism, but his death, for good or for ill, brought greater attention to its continued presence. The protests in Ferguson spread like a fire throughout the nation, giving a rude awakening to our myth of a post-racial society. We saw on our screens just how militarized the police had become, patrolling through the streets in tanks, wearing SWAT-like uniforms, and using tear gas (a chemical banned in warfare) against people practicing their First Amendment rights. The protesters were justified in showing concern over Brown’s death. They had experienced racism from the Ferguson police before. The Justice Department found the institution to be diseased with racism, one example being that they excessively pulled over blacks to increase their paychecks. What happened in Ferguson, indeed, what happened in Florida, are a part of widespread racial trends. This is seen most clearly in the race riots that erupted in both Ferguson and Baltimore. Of course, the rioting was horrible and unjust, but it sent a clear message: the anguish of racism had never really healed in these communities. They have reason to be angry. Sometimes, that anger comes it terrible ways. It’s worth adding that many whom engage in riots feel hopeless, so the restraints of non-violence mean little to them. Contemplate the question of Frederick Douglass many years past, “What is the Fourth of July to a Slave?”
They have great reason to be angry.
Marissa Alexander fired a warning shot against her abusive husband and was thrown in jail. Jordan Davis was shot to death for listening to loud music. Renisha McBride asked a neighbor for help and was shot in the face. Jonathan Ferrell asked a cop for help and was shot in the face. Walter Scott was shot in the back for running away. Eric Harris was suffocated for running away. Tamir Rice, a child, was shot to death for holding a toy gun in the park. John Crawford, an adult, was shot to death for holding a toy gun in a Wal-Mart, his girlfriend subsequently harrassed by the police. Freddie Gray was arrested for trivial reasons, and given a “rough ride” without a seatbelt in which his spine was broken. Samuel Dubose was shot in the face for not producing his driver’s license. Activist Sandra Bland was arrested aggressively and later found dead in her jail cell. Honors student Martese Johnson was beaten violently during his arrest. Former Senator, Rev. Clementa Pinckney, along with eight others, were massacred in the historic AME Church by a white supremacist. Rekia Boyd was shot in the back of the head because an officer wrongly mistook a cell phone in her group for a gun.
And so on.
The injustice that sticks out to me the most is the brutal murder, a lynching really, of Eric Garner. His crime, selling untaxed cigarettes on the streets of Staten Island. For that, officers piled on him, he cried out multiple times, “I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe!” Cries made in vain. I was shocked by how brazenly Garner’s humanity was forgotten under the weight of a thousand cops. “I can’t breathe” has since become the rallying cry of a thousand protesters. It describes the state of blackness in America, blackness that can get you killed. Indeed, “we can’t breathe” in this state of affairs. Moments of my life are now racked with fear, that I, too, may be killed for one of those menial reasons. That I might be another hashtag trending on Twitter. You don’t believe it’ll happen to you, until it does.
I’m going to indulge in the nauseating cliche of referring to Martin Luther King Jr in race matters. I know that you’ve probably heard your share of King’s quotes around this time, but if I may. In an interview with Merv Griffin, King talked about what he felt, was that the greatest thing accomplished by the Civil Rights Movement,
“It has given the Negro a greater sense of dignity. A new sense of somebodiness. This is maybe the greatest victory that we have won. Turning away from the external changes that have come about. I think the greatest thing is the internal change in the psyche of the Negro, and the Negro has a sense of pride now that he desperately needed all along. He is able to stand up and feel that he is a man. I think that this is the only way ultimately, to solve the real problem and the problem that we must grapple with in the future. The Negro has straightened his back up, so to speak, and you can’t ride a man’s back unless it’s bent. By straightening up his back, he’s made it possible to move on in the future and make greater gains.”
In these turbulent times, it is hard to find breath, but time and again it comes back to us when we call out injustice.
Originally published at http://sansuthecat.blogspot.com on August 23, 2015.
