But in the final analysis, a riot is the language of the unheard. And what is it America has failed to hear?
Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.
I was inspired to write this piece when I read what Lloyd Pierce’s timely post on Instagram and his poignant words on SI.com. So eloquent … so deep. I, on the other hand, feel like a infant learning how to talk. Even so, I feel compelled to try and express myself amid all the madness. Just like a toddler, I am excited about what comes next but scared as hell of the world around me. I am eager because I am finally getting a chance to speak my thoughts but scared because the words may not come out quite right. My first attempt at putting my thoughts into words was a piece I wrote called “Is It Harder being Black or 6’8”?” When published, it caused a little bit of an unexpected stir … mostly because I don’t share my thoughts … but it still felt right. Here, I’m not sure if there is a “this feels right” with this one.
We are all trying to figure out how to live during a pandemic, as well as the stark realities of COVID-19’s impact on the black community. Amid the coronavirus, we have been blindsided by the video of the murder of Ahmaud Arbery, the death of Breonna Taylor, and then the final 10 seconds of George Floyd’s life. Wow … Shook doesn’t do justice to how I feel. But what do I do? What can I do? It’s overwhelming. Should I join the protests? Do I continue to write?
Here at home when we lost Stephon Clark. I didn’t join the protests. I found myself frozen in time, until I was asked if I had ever had THE talk with my son. I harkened back to the documentary “I AM NOT YOUR NEGRO” and James Baldwin’s words declaring that he was a witness and could better serve in other capacities. So, I began offering up my experiences to help people understand that it is about more than THE talk. I offered up my experiences as a black man, as a father. Nobody listened. Then one day I was asked to attend a meeting of black men. It turned out I was asked to go because I was black not because I had a purpose there. I showed up to the meeting and I listened. Toward the end of the meeting I felt compelled to offer myself in service even though I was not supposed to do so. Gave my number to everyone in the room. Only have been contacted by two. Didn’t fit there either.
Throughout my life I have never quite fit. I did not look like the folks I grew up around in Europe. Here in the states, I wasn’t black enough to hang because I spoke proper English the way my mom taught me with the help of hooked on phonics. In college, as a DJ, I was judged because I didn’t look or sound like a hip-hop DJ. Now a days, I believe being a well-dressed, decently spoken 6’8” black man has been a blessing because my skin color and height while threatening can also disarm with that ever faithful, but awkward “Did you play ball?” question.
But the reality is that as a black man …
Regardless of what I do. Regardless of what I achieve. Regardless of how I dress. Regardless of how I speak. Regardless of where I live…
I don’t feel safe…
I don’t feel safe to speak my mind for fear of being fired…
I don’t feel safe to love my fiancée for fear that we won’t be accepted…
I don’t feel safe driving a work vehicle and being followed by a squad car…
I don’t feel safe walking down the streets of Sacramento with friends when my fiancée is called a “nigger lover…”
As a father of three black children, two sons and a daughter, aged 21, 17, 16, who has fit the description, who has been profiled, and who has been misunderstood…
I am scared…
I am scared that I have not prepared them…
I am scared every time my 21 year old leaves the house…
I am scared because my sons think they are invincible…
I am scared for them because it could be me…
As a human being, I want more than the never fading social and economic inequities faced by my community. I expect more than a Salesforce certification can fix, because even skills, an education, and a good job cannot prevent a fatal traffic stop.
I am feeling sad…
I am feeling confused…
I am feeling lost…
I am feeling anxious…
I am finding my voice.
More to come … But for now, like Killer Mike said last Friday “Plot, Plan, Strategize, Organize and Mobilize …” by completing the 2020 Census and using your political bully power by voting.
