I woke up today and took in the stillness of the already warm morning. Turning my face to the sun, I began my prayers of thanksgiving and I felt an immense amount of gratitude for what God had in store for me. And then I picked up my phone and checked the news:
“White Woman Apologizes After Calling Cops On Black Man Who Asked Her To Put Leash On Her Dog”
Sweet Jesus, have mercy! What must it be like to wake up in the morning and not be nervous to look at your phone? What must it be like to live without the worry of harassment or death every time you or a family member go out to do normal everyday things? What must it be like to have someone look at you and not feel fear, or hatred, or disgust? What’s it like?
I ask because it seems like everyday there is a new name to add to the ever-growing list of Black men and women being harassed and/or killed in America and we see the headlines, we read the names, we bemoan our tiredness, and then we shake our heads in the resignation of “just another day in America.”
Just another day being told what we can’t do, where we can’t go, and who we can’t be. Another day of terrifying others because our Black skin is just too much.
THIS IS TOO DAMN MUCH!
George Floyd was suffocated to death by a Minneapolis police officer who dug his knee into the man’s neck for over seven minutes while his comrades looked on. They didn’t listen to pleas of witnesses or to Mr. Floyd’s own cries that HE COULD NOT BREATHE! My God! What insanity is this?! The man is narrating his own death and it doesn’t move the officer emotionally or physically. George Floyd’s life was snuffed out of him and we just watched it. Are you moved? Are you moved enough to care? Are you moved enough to scream “ENOUGH IS ENOUGH?”
Because what is left for Black America to do? On the same day as George Floyd’s death, another Black man, Christian Cooper, was bird watching when a woman came by with her unleashed dog. A request was made for her to leash her dog, and as heated words were exchanged, she acted upon her threat to call the police and “. . . tell [the cops] there’s an African American man threatening my life!” She knew full well what that meant for a Black man. She knew that her pettiness could lead to another death but she didn’t care. He told her to leash her dog and how dare he impede her freedom.
But how can we be free? We can’t bird-watch, jog in our cities, or sit in our homes. How would you like us to express our discontent? We can’t march, we can’t kneel, we can’t show our frustration for fear of being labeled “The Angry Black.” How would you like us to live? Silently, out of sight, out of breath?
That is not in our nature.
We are human beings, dark and lovely, proud and courageous, intelligent and resilient. We are the keepers of our stories and traditions and we refuse to let our stories be usurped, erased, modified, or forgotten! More than anything, we too, share in the inheritance of Christ, which is the glory of Heaven. We will all have to answer for these atrocities. Will your response include, “Oh, but. . . he should’ve. . . well. . . if he hadn't . . .” If that is how you would respond right now or if you are beginning to feel defensive, slow down and breathe since you still have the privilege to do so. Now turn your face to the Son and hear Him say, “Amen, I say to you, what you did not do for one of these least ones, you did not do for me” (Matthew 25:45).
