Colin Kaepernick and Non-violent Civil Disobedience

David Biddle
The Coffeelicious
Published in
8 min readSep 6, 2016

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San Francisco 49ers quarterback Colin Kaepernick is following his conscience by not standing for the national anthem before football games. I get exactly what’s going on here and I am glad that our national “conversation” on race is being pushed harder than people want by someone with at least a bit of influence. Yes, there’s a huge amount of vitriol and ignorant smugness coming out of people’s mouthes right now about why the 28-year-old mixed race athlete is wrong, but the effect of that negativity is to essentially say, “We’re not going to have that conversation unless it doesn’t challenge anyone.” People operating on that level fuel those who have been claiming for the past several years that there’s no real problem with racial disparity in our criminal justice system, and that the systemic racism people are talking about is just a bunch of crybaby nonsense.

The point of Kaepernick’s actions, and probably where the discussion of these issues needs to begin, is that if you’re not a minority, you really don’t know what it feels like to be one. While there are clear statistics on the racial problems we’re all so lathered up about, there’s also the emotional reality that all individuals who seem “different” must grapple with day in and day out. On the one hand, America lives by the idea of liberty and justice for all. But on the other hand, people of color and other minorities are forced daily to confront limitations on their liberty, and unjust situations on multiple levels of their lives. Kaepernick himself said in a media interview last Sunday:

“I’ve had times where one of my roommates was moving out of the house in college and because we were the only black people in that neighborhood the cops got called and we had guns drawn on us. Came in the house, without knocking, guns drawn on my teammates and roommates.” — NinersWire, USA Today, August 28, 2016

So, yes, I understand all of this and raise my fist in salute to Colin Kaepernick (and the whole Black Lives Matter movement in general), because I used to feel discouraged and frustrated about America too. Years ago, when this country was fighting a dumb war in Southeast Asia and conscripting teenage boys to go fight it, I was one of many who refused to stand for the national anthem. It was the early ’70s. Nixon had managed to get re-elected, we’d come through two decades of the civil rights movement. The assassinations of Bobby Kennedy and Martin Luther King, Jr. were still quite fresh in the souls of those who understood their messages. And there seemed to be so many people who angrily despised those of us who believed in social justice, human rights, and the need to protect the American wilderness as well as the very air, water, and soil that is the basis of human life on earth. People drove around the country with bumper stickers that said, “America: Love it or leave it.” A visceral prejudice was ripening everywhere against anyone who didn’t toe the line and conform — whether you were dark skinned, long-haired, feminist, out of the closet, or just plain freaky and strange.

I didn’t stand for the “Star-Spangled Banner” or the Pledge of Allegiance in junior high and high school. But not out of hate or spite. I was simply ashamed of us. Yes, I was angry that so many people living in my country were narrow-minded and acting like sheep, and I knew that the simple act of refusing to participate in honoring our flag was an unequivocal protest against what others thought mattered. I wanted to hate. I wanted to see the world around me as despicable in its hypocrisy and materialism. But I couldn’t really feel so negative and hostile. I just needed in my own small way to register my displeasure and shame. There were many around me in junior high and high school who felt as I did. They were my brothers and sisters who stayed seated as well. We were definitely a minority, but, then, rebels are always minorities, aren’t they?

I published an essay about this experience at Medium a few years ago. It was called, “How I Overcame Being Ashamed of My Country.” I think I stopped protesting when I understood that I no longer felt ashamed of my country — also, admittedly, the draft was put on hold, the war in Vietnam was over, and the country finally woke up to what a dangerous person Richard Nixon really was (although I’d gladly take him as a president over Donald Trump). Yes, there were — and are — certain things that seemed counterproductive and even heartless about this country, but there was so much good as well. It took growing up and maturing to see that. But it also took protesting and expressing my dissatisfaction in order to get to the other side.

Refusing to stand for the national anthem is a strange thing to do, quite honestly. When you remain seated and the other people around you are standing for that weird song most don’t really understand, what are you saying to them? Seriously. If you think at all while you sit there waiting for that last refrain, “…and the home of the brave,” you can’t miss that while you are making a grand and socially important statement calling attention to yourself, you’re also making that statement to everyone around you — real people. When you look at them — that dad with his arms around the shoulders of his two young boys; the young couple snuggling inside a blanket; the kind of rowdy group of teachers out for a night of fun before school starts again — you realize no matter what their politics or the depth of their complexions, they’re all just people doing the best they can. Are you protesting against them, or something greater? The answer to that question is not so easy to come up with. Not if you’re honest.

Mr. Kaepernick has made it clear he is not protesting men and women in the American military. He’s also made it clear that this simple act is about getting people to talk about race and injustice so that “we can really affect change. And make sure that everyone is treated equally and has the same freedom.” If you disagree with him or say he’s wrong, is that because you don’t feel there’s a problem? Or is it because you don’t think his act of civil disobedience can change things for the better? Maybe you think it isn’t worth it?

What we have all witnessed over the past several years here in America is clear and unequivocal evidence of how violent and afraid we have become as a nation since the new century began. We’ve all created this situation together. The reasons for this violence and fear are obviously complicated. You could start with TV and movies, maybe add in video games like Grand Theft Auto. Poverty and disenfranchisement should get a major shoutout too, right? — especially after our economic collapse of 2007 and 2008. And, of course, we can’t forget terror attacks — both domestically and globally. We’ve also dramatically decreased our investments locally and nationally in education and public safety over the last decade. Colin Kaepernick is right when he says:

“You have people that practice law and are lawyers and go to school for eight years, but you can become a cop in six months and don’t have to have the same amount of training as a cosmetologist. That’s insane. Someone that’s holding a curling iron has more education and more training than people that have a gun and are going out on the street to protect us.”

I don’t want to waste your time delineating all the ways we’re screwing up as a society in dealing with these issues except to point out one thing: the only way things change in this country is when The People stand up and say enough. And historically the way that people are most effective in saying “enough” is when they peacefully act in ways that rock the boat. Because when you don’t physically hurt others and you don’t threaten people, but you do something direct and symbolic with your body, when you risk your reputation, you really make people feel the boat getting rocked.

We have been mired in new kinds of destructive hate and violence and fear since at least the Michael Brown fiasco in Ferguson (you can make the case it all goes back to Trayvon Martin in 2012). The media has whipped us all into a frenzy amplifying our negativity and distrust. Now we have a mixed race symbol of masculinity and strength making a peaceful statement of social and civil disobedience because he wants to force people to talk about this stuff and start moving on ways to solve these problems. The smart alecks and professional jerks have had their say. And the quarterback is still sitting.

The question isn’t whether Colin Kaepernick is right or wrong, the question is whether we are going to get to work. What we’re confronted with here is the need to talk about how we’re going to re-invest in our kids, and our neighborhoods, and those responsible for community safety in ways that allow us to rise beyond fear and hostility. If we don’t figure this out, I predict that more people are going to join Kaepernick very soon (see the first item in the “Related articles,” below). Our criminal justice system clearly isn’t working for minorities. Institutional racism is called systemic racism because it has been statistically described in numerous studies on numerous issues — from access to education, business opportunities, and healthcare to hiring practices, voting restrictions, and interpersonal interactions everywhere in America. In general, too, terrorists are winning when we spew hate and venom at each other. It doesn’t matter what “side” you’re on.

I overcame being ashamed of my country after a number of youthful years of frustration and feeling that I couldn’t do anything to make life better for all of us. I don’t feel that anymore. Nothing’s easy here in the modern world, but one thing I know for sure is that when people with influence confront injustice in ways that make others uncomfortable, we’ve got a shot at making the world a better place to live for everyone. Colin Kaepernick isn’t sitting in protest for himself. He’s sitting in protest for you, and for me, and for all the people we love, and our neighbors and our friends. What does it mean to be the home of the brave anyway? What is liberty and justice for all?

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Originally published at davidbiddle.net.

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