Justice is a practice. Not an end. — Eddie Glaude
My dear friend and colleague Dinah Becton-Consuegra recently stated that we should stop asking for resilience. We should stop preaching to our children and our peers a need to harden themselves for life in an unjust system. We need, she argues, a better country. One which doesn’t require a large population of its citizens to endure a constant state of trauma. One which doesn’t result in a sense of surprise and relief when an obvious murderer is convicted of murder. One which doesn’t constantly kick the can to the next generation under the premise that it’s the children who are the future.
And yet, here I stand, as I so often do, looking to young people for inspiration. Whether it’s the vocal activism that comes from the students within the Big Picture Learning network or the words of George Floyd’s own young daughter — Gianna “Gigi” Floyd — that “Daddy’s changed the world!”
Changing the world was not on George Floyd’s mind last May when he stepped into Cub Foods, a Minneapolis corner store that will now forever be tied to the social justice movement our country has fought for centuries and is likely to continue fighting for years, decades and probably centuries to come. But with a guilty verdict in, I’ve decided to let in a little hope (not joy; not celebration) that if there’s something positive to come out of all this, it’s that the conviction of Derek Chauvin on all three counts may represent a first step toward accountability. Toward justice. Toward change.
But please, don’t get me wrong. Hope is not the same thing as relief. I still feel an ache. I still feel sad. I still shed tears recalling what we were all feeling this time last year as our country seemed to rip itself apart. And, more than anything, I think of how George Floyd should be here. His very absence from this moment reminds me — as it should remind everyone — that the pressing knee of brutality, hate, racism and faction has not yet been removed from our collective necks.
I will get no relief until systems and structures have changed — deep and broad and lasting change. I grapple with the juxtaposition of watching officers publicly disavow egregious uses of police power within their ranks while also hearing of continuing acts of police violence and intimidation (including the recent murder of Daunte Wright, just on the outskirts of Minneapolis itself). I understand that there are numerous ten-point plans for reforming policing and the criminal justice system at large. Here’s one among many that might be considered. I have not read all or even a few, but one thing is clear: there is no one solution. There are many essential components that require reform, all of which need immediate and simultaneous attention.
I do know that we can, and we MUST, live in a country where the police do not kill Black and Brown people. I do know that that we can, and we MUST, fundamentally reform a system of incarceration that is little more than a perpetuation of slavery. I do know that we can, and we MUST, use this moment to move forward, not backward.
We cannot stay silent. And we cannot sit on our hands. We at Big Picture mince no words about our role as activists. So we must thoroughly disrupt the current equilibrium. We must not harden our acceptance of fragile support structures and systems. We must not accept trauma as an everyday part of life.
We will start by reaffirming Big Picture Learning’s vision “that all students live lives of their own design, supported by caring mentors and equitable opportunities to achieve their greatest potential.” It is in this work that we contribute to the fundamental change our country needs. Only then will we find our chance to truly demonstrate how Gianna’s Daddy changed the world.
Tonight we exhale. Tomorrow the work continues.
