Severe Storms Ahead – Photo: L. Weikel
Risk
Watching reports of the protests occurring nationwide in response to the reprehensible acts (or failure to act) of the four Minneapolis Police Department officers that resulted in the death of George Floyd is upsetting enough. But when you stop for a second and realize these protests and marches are taking place in the midst of a global pandemic, in the midst of a virtual plague, the fact that so many thousands of people are willing to put their lives at risk to demand justice speaks louder than any words they could chant.
A couple times today I heard or read someone express surprise that people are in fact gathering in these huge crowds, considering the considerable risk of spreading the coronavirus – particularly given that black and brown people seem to be harder hit, proportionately, than the rest of the population.*
But doesn’t their very willingness to risk exposure to the virus show how desperately our country needs profound systemic reformation – immediately?
What Trumps Who
If we’re honest with ourselves, black and brown lives are at risk no matter what. Sure, if they catch Covid-19, they’re at greater risk of being hospitalized and dying from it. But as things stand now, they’re at risk of being hospitalized or dying simply from being what they are. And yes, I’m consciously saying ‘what’ they are as opposed to ‘who’ they are.
For who they are doesn’t matter in the least. It’s all in the color of their skin, baby. That’s all that matters to far too many people who have access to instruments of power and lethal force, be they cell phones to call 9-1-1 on a ‘black man’ daring to call her out for breaking the rules to guns or choke holds or knees to the neck.
As we’ve nauseatingly seen time and again, people of color are not allowed to be in our country. They’re not permitted to play, or to jog, or to watch birds in the park. They’re not allowed to sleep in their own beds without being subject to lethal force when idiot police try to execute a no-knock search warrant in the middle of the night on the wrong apartment.
Mother Rage
As a mother myself, I cannot imagine the rage and fear experienced by mothers of children of color. And yet my sense that I would not be able to contain my outrage and terror is an indicator of my privilege. Why? Because my sense of justice burns hot for my babies. And yet mothers of black or brown children dare not risk expressing the rage I, as a white person, cannot imagine not expressing.
How do they live with that inexpressible terror and rage, simmering deep within? Any of us who contemplate such ongoing hell know – they can’t breathe. We can’t breathe.
There’s a plague hitting our country all right. While it exists all over the world, it is deep and ugly and pervasive all over the United States, but especially in places of power. And it’s time we stood up, link our arms, and say in one voice, “NO MORE.”
We’re all brothers and sisters no matter the pigment of our skin. We bleed. We love. We grieve. We breathe.
We must actively take a stand. We must demand systemic reform. We must demand that this scourge be condemned and actively eradicated by those holding positions of power. Now. No more waiting. And if they won’t do it?
Vote. Them. Out.
And if that’s snatched away from us?
Cletus Contemplating the Impending Chaos – Photo: L. Weikel
*To be fair, the footage I’ve seen shows the vast majority of protesters wearing masks – and in many places, actually marching and assembling while maintaining some semblance of social distancing, which is no mean feat. This shows respect and reverence for life – theirs and those around them, as well as those with whom they live – which, I suspect is precisely why they’re willing to risk it all.
(T-546)