Fear. A Lack of Faith. A Lack of Empathy.

Yesterday, Terrence Crutcher was shot and killed. My friend Ryan Polonio — a self-described ‘big black dude’ — has pushed through and written about this occurrence from his perspective, and I’m thankful. As he says:

It’s a now FAMILIAR story of an unarmed black man (unless his black skin is a weapon) murdered by a police officer. His apparent crime? That depends on how you feel about crime and law and blackness.

His car was disabled and he needed help. He broke no laws; there were no warrants out for his arrest. His response to being approached by police officers was a now expected one, he put his hands up, perhaps without even being ordered to. It could not have been lost on him that others, in similar circumstances, have died from any perception of resistance. It didn’t matter. He needed assistance, and received bullets instead. Thanks to multiple videos of his execution, we can see this was not at all an escalated situation; yet the end result was that of an armed standoff with a terrorist.

Why?

Yesterday, a well-known black journalist and writer who I follow posted a couple of (now deleted) tweets. While I don’t remember them word for word, they were essentially this:

I now have to deal with the reality that one of my friends or family members will be shot and killed by the police.

Another scenario: That person will be me.

He was quickly met with replies from white men, about how he was ‘overreacting’ and ‘being dramatic’.

Why?

Another black journalist I follow posted a tweet months ago saying this:

A response I see a lot is “When did things get so bad,” and I’m so tired of saying “It’s always been this bad, we just didn’t have video.”

Last night he posted this:

Here is how I’ve lived my life this summer: Whenever I notice this tweet getting a bunch of RT’s again, I know there’s been another killing.

Why?

Ryan Polonio, again, puts his finger on the why quite succinctly. Fear has won, again and again:

Terrance Crutcher actually died because the officers were afraid a large black man. Fear implied that his situation, being broke down in the road, on his way back from community college, constituted a crime. Fear escalated the situation from a man with his hands up to an armed standoff, except with the officers being the only armed party. I believe this fear to be irrational (my eldest son is afraid of shadows at night). And like the incidents before his, there was no faith in his humanity, no faith in his worthiness to live, to thrive and to merely exist, no faith in his intentions, and no faith in his future.

Fear wins yet again, and like sin, the wages of fear is also death except it’s the death of others. I understand the effects of fear personally. I am a big black dude, and I have been for quite some time. My children will be big black men someday. I’m sure it could benefit me to lose some weight, although I used to think only impacted my blood pressure. In our society, we are afraid of black men, the perception of blackness, of black people in general regardless of their sex (Korryn Gaines), their age (Trayvon Martin) or their size (Tamir Rice). It can be a minute fear or a substantial fear. And I deal with the fear of others every single day. You just may not have noticed.

Please, read Ryan’s words, and prove with your life that faith is more powerful than fear after all.