A million little deaths: Being black in America
Yesterday I had a near death experience. It wasn’t a slip on the ice or a too close mishap on the freeway. It was being followed for half a mile while driving home from work.
Remember the last time you almost died? Your mind goes crazy. The logical side collides with your dreams. You think of what could have been and how you could have changed anything to not be here. What would you do different next time? How stupid are you? I really wanted to try that restaurant. I love everyone. Ahhhhhhhhh…then you don’t die and damn that feels good.
My near death experience was kinda like that except I couldn’t alter the events to avoid this happening. I can’t do something different next time. I won’t get that pleasure rush realizing it’s over.
Here’s what happened in my head.
Oh poop. I forgot to signal that turn and of course there’s a cop right there. Actually, I don’t think he could have seen it from that angel. I’m cool.
Heart starts beating as he pulls forward and behind me.
Pay attention. Drive the speed limit. Complete stops.
I wonder if he saw my face? Is he having a bad day? Is he angry? Will he become angry if he doesn’t like what I have to say?
Will he see me as a person? I’m an executive at a software startup. Should I tell him that.
Did he support those billboards?
Oh my god. Sandra Bland.
It’s not fair that I feel this way.
Be careful getting up to speed he’s still behind you.
Oh thank god a moving truck. Maybe he’ll get slowed down and I can disappear.
My sweet baby is waiting for me at home.
I don’t think I can act like it’s ok to treat me like a criminal if he pulls me over.
That’s the best thing to do. You can do it. I can’t. You have to. Act stupid and apologetic. Act white. I am white. Half white. Why does he get to decide who I am? Why does it matter who I am.
I’m like you, maybe. I grew up in a logging town with 1500 people. I’m a native. I love classic rock. We might have more in common than you could imagine.
But F***the billboards.
He’s gone.………………………..
I feel raped by this experience.
~
This past year or two has been hard. All of the attention on incidences of harm towards people of color is painful. It’s also messing with me. My fear is rising and I think for good reason. The responses to these stories isn’t what you would hope. Lots of excuses. Many signs of not caring. Many signs that these types of experiences aren’t going away anytime soon and could be increasing due to the real rising tensions in this country.
Many smart and passionate people are writing and expressing thoughtful commentary and raising up in protest. I just wanted to add my voice and share how I am impacted by racism, power structures and the messages sent by everyone around me.
I hope you will think of me next time you contemplate the effects of institutional racism, police brutality and their response to it and your own behavior, opinions and voting record.
We are all in this together. Some days I’m angry. Some scared. Some hopeful. Some I don’t even thing about this stuff at all. Those are nice days. Let’s do things that make those nice days more common for more people. Ok?
The Billboards
The City of Portland Oregon police department sent our citizens a clear message whey they countered the sentiment of Black Lives Matter with a disgusting, slap in the face, disturbing, hateful message “Having Enough Police Matters” on billboards around town. Since seeing these I can’t shake the feeling that if this is their public message, the internal workings of this department are not on the right side of justice and any encounter with the police in this city could be potential dangerous for me. Have you seen messages like this in your community? If you are in Portland what was your reaction?
Thank you Marge Jacobsen for being an inspiration for writing this. We all need to share these realities for true change to come.
~
I also want to send love to Sandra and her family. When I wrote this I hadn’t yet heard about the devastating verdict to not indict anyone for her murder. I’m sick and I only hope with continued work justice will be served for her.
The trauma she went through and her eventual death is hard to process. The result of this grand jury is almost harder. The previous could be just one man. The latter is our society telling us how unimportant our lives are. This is exactly the type of message that provides a comfy little space for violent men who hold power to continue to victimize us. This has to stop.
