The Other Virus We Don’t Talk About
These past few weeks, I have not been okay. I am still not okay. People who look like me in America are certainly not okay. We have experienced a level of hatred in America for many years and if you’ve been keeping up with the news, you will hopefully understand why the black community is not okay. We have been dealing with two viruses, COVID-19 and racism. The COVID-19 has been disproportionately impacting people of color at an alarming rate. This is due to a number of underlying factors, one being systemic racism. We have also been dealing with an ongoing battle of injustice amongst African Americans. We have been fighting against police brutality and police killings as well as racist civilians we encounter in our everyday lives. We have had the cops called on us while bird watching at a park, we have had a woman uttering the lies to the police, “An African American man is attacking me. Please hurry” while on camera. We have had the cops called on us because we occupied the same affluent office space of a person who didn’t believe that we had a right to be there, even though we pay rent. We have been hunted and murdered by a father and son in our neighborhood while going for a jog. We have had 8 bullets shot into our body due to a “no knock warrant”, when the suspect they were looking for was already in custody. And this is all within the last three months of 2020. This is an ugly normal, but in the days of technology, there’s a saying by Will Smith, “Racism isn’t getting worse. It’s just getting filmed.”
As many of you know, George Floyd died at the knee of 4 policemen. Just like many other black men before him, his death was caught on camera. What we’re experiencing in our world right now did not start with Mr. Floyd, or Ahmaud Arbery, who went for that jog, or Breonna Taylor who was shot eight times by police in her home. The infamous case of Rodney King being a victim of police brutality was caught on film in 1991. A year later, in my hometown of Detroit, Malice Green was beaten and murdered by the police on the streets. Nearly 30 years later, it’s still happening. The list of names that have now become hashtags on social media compared with the jail time that has been served is far beneath a display of what should be considered justice. We have a long-standing history of racism in America, no matter how successful we become, no matter how peacefully we protest, or how many decades we’ve been asking for basic freedoms that we are constantly denied. We are tired. We are exhausted. We are hurting. We are angry. We are SCARED! We fear “Is my son next?” “Is my brother next?” “Is my nephew next?” “Is my husband next?” “Is my daughter next?” I have four brothers who all have been pulled over for trivial reasons. I think back to the time when my oldest brother came home scared because of the way he was treated during a simple traffic stop. He was harassed, assaulted and dehumanized. The reason for the traffic stop: Rolling an inch over the crosswalk at a red light. I think about how #GeorgeFloyd could have easily been #RashardTownes, #ReccoTownes, #RaylawnCopeland, or #RoscoeCopeland. His death felt very personal. It’s traumatizing.
What’s also traumatizing is the mental toll these killings take on us. Black people have to make choices between feeling raw emotions and protecting our mental health. It hurts to tune into to so much pain, but it feels like a betrayal when you don’t. Before the killing of George Floyd, I was in a really good space, mentally. The pandemic was slowing in my state. I had started some gardening for the spring and found several “Quarantine Projects” to do around the house. I remember at one point thinking how fortunate I was to be able to find peace during a pandemic. That peace was interrupted the day that George Floyd’s death was caught on camera. With Breonna’s death, I had chosen to slightly tune out. I betrayed her for the sake of my peace, as though it wouldn’t exist if I didn’t talk about. With Ahmaud’s death, I was sad and numb. With Mr Floyd’s untimely passing, I felt.
Ever since I made the sacrificial decision to feel, I have not been okay. However, I chose to use my tired, hurting, angry voice to speak out against these atrocities. I chose to educate my non-black friends and colleagues on racist issues that the black community face daily, which they will never experience in their worlds. For example, when their kids get their license, they may worry about tickets or a car accident. We fear that a traffic stop may be a death sentence. We have to ensure that they know how to interact with the police if they ever got pulled over. “Keep your hands on the wheel where they can see them.” “Don’t make any sudden moves?” “Let them know that you’re reaching for your license, or they may think you’re reaching for a gun and shoot you.” (Like Philando Castile). “Talk respectfully and don’t argue with them, even if you feel justified.” “If you purchase something, always ask for a receipt so that you’re not accused of stealing .” As we have these uncomfortable conversations within our households, I feel there are several uncomfortable conversations to be had in the police departments, in non-black social circles, and corporations.
Our problem is not just a police problem. Racism exists within our justice system. In America, black people are serving longer prison sentences for similar crimes than white people. Racism exists in our banking and insurance systems. Large banks and insurance companies have exhibited racist practices, such as redlining and reverse redlining for decades. The education system in the black community is underfunded and classrooms are overcrowded. Corporate America’s unconscious (or conscious) hiring and retention practices is also added this list. All of these uncomfortable conversations need to happen and the black community cannot be the only people having them. To our allies: You cannot be silent. You have to speak up against injustice. You must educate yourself on African American issues. You must have these uncomfortable conversations within your social circles. Racism is a disease. Help us cure it. Stand with us. We need your voices more than you know. This fight isn’t just about me, or people who look like me. This is about equality.
Although I am not okay, I am hopeful. The death of George Floyd has sparked protests across the globe. I don’t know why this didn’t start with Trayvon Martin, Tamir Rice, Sandra Bland, Eric Garner, whose last words were also “I can’t breathe”, or the long list of other victims. Maybe it’s because the world has been forced to slow down with no distractions. Maybe it took one global virus to recognize the other virus we don’t talk about. Whatever the reason, the black community is grateful for those who are standing in solidarity with us. Thank you to those who have unapologetically expressed that black lives DO matter. We still have a long way to go for justice. Keep the fight going!
~Mo
