The only thing we have to fear is fear itself...unless you're black in America

“The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” -Winston Churchill

Unless you’re black in America. There, I fixed it. And I have had enough. 

I am white. I have privilege. And the question I ask myself is, how far do we have to fall down this rabbit hole before we finally stand up, and I mean STAND UP, in defense of our BROTHERS AND SISTERS in distress. And even that sentence is too simplified, too gentle, too kind. When will we finally stand up while our BROTHERS AND SISTERS are MURDERED? How far does it have to go before we all collectively stand up against the racist bigots who are killing people in our country in the name of JUSTICE?

I am white. I have had encounters with law enforcement. I have NEVER feared for my life during those encounters. I have shaken, I have been scared, but I was not, “God, please don’t let them kill me right here in broad daylight,” scared. I. Have. Privilege. I have watched white women, specifically, try to assault officers, swear, insult them, insult their families, insult everything about them. I watched a woman cry next to a cop car and repeatedly try to let her arrested boyfriend out. I watched the cop say over and over, “If you do that again, I’m going to have to arrest you too.” Like she was a poor, sweet child. I have never worried for those people. By those people, I mean people who aren’t black. (For those who are offended by that, good. You should be. I am).

I used to be the type of person who “didn’t see color”, a person who compared her Irish roots because “they suffered when they came here too.” 15 years later, I am ashamed that I could ever utter those words or believe in those sentiments, even nonchalantly. I did not understand. I COULD NOT UNDERSTAND. But I chose to try. I chose to be an ally a long time ago. I chose to be an ally when Trayvon Martin was shot by George Zimmerman. I was a young teacher with kids who were predominately not white and the same age as Trayvon at the time. I talked to my kids and I learned that this happens to young people of color. I was told a story of a racial slur being shouted at one of my kid from the car of an elderly woman because he crossed the street too slowly for her taste (he was in a crosswalk). I was told a story of a young man in ELEMENTARY SCHOOL who was stopped by the police IN HIS SCHOOL UNIFORM ON A FIELD TRIP because they wanted to know what he thought he was doing. I had never felt fear like I did and still do since that day. 

I have watched this unfold on the news and I have watched entertainment attempt to bring this to light. I sat in front of my television and cried while Grey’s Anatomy had Maranda Bailey explaining to Tucker what to do if he were ever stopped by police. This was after a young black boy was shot and eventually dies for trying to break into his own house while he was locked out. I remembered my young students telling me similar stories of breaking into their homes and suddenly I was terrified that this could be one of my kids. This is 1/10 of the terror that I imagine mothers of black children feel. There are mothers out there scared for scraped knees or broken bones or germs. How can we not understand the terror of sending your CHILDREN out into a world where a person meant to uphold the law could kill them, just because of the melanin in their skin? (If you are saying, “BUT…” right now, you are part of the problem. Fix it.)

I have watched black men, boys, women and girls, lose their lives for existing while black. Their skin tone itself is a threat. They are a threat? SLAVERY has been around for thousands of years, and yet American slavery is a SCAR upon the face of our country. But rather than treating the scar and acknowledging the scar that we have created, we would rather pretend our face is fine. 

OUR FACE IS NOT FINE. 

I read about the two men who chased down Ahmaud Arbery because he “looked like an armed robbery suspect.” I watched the video and cried as he was shot. I walked 2.23 miles in Morocco, where I live, in a sad attempt to do SOMETHING for him. But there is nothing I can do for him but say, “This is enough.” I read about Breonna Taylor, a beautiful young lady who gave back to her community, who was killed by police issuing a no-knock warrant that both led to her death and led her boyfriend to fire shots in a state that allows such a thing who is now arrested for attempted murder. Philando Castillo, who was a cafeteria worker at a school who was shot and killed in front of his daughter. I watched as an ambulance didn’t make it in time and the same police that are responsible for his death take his daughter out of the car. I have watched Eric Garner get choked by police until he was dead. I have watched bullets unloaded into cars of black men because they are not performing the way the police WANT THEM TO PERFORM. A police officer KNEELED on a man’s NECK until he was unresponsive and then continued to kneel on his neck until paramedics arrived. George Floyd deserved better. He was described as the kind of man who built people up and now he is the latest in the list of black bodies publicly executed. What I have seen, over and over again, is nothing short of public executions. There is no justice for these men, women, and children. There will be no justice for them, until we as a country stand up and say NO MORE. 

I am devastated. I am filled with rage. I am terrified every day that the next time a black body is killed and left on the ground it could be the body of someone I love but I am also terrified that it is someone that another person loved. Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, Trayvon Martin? They could have been my kids. Philando Castilo? Reminded me of the many cafeteria workers I’ve been friends with since being a teacher. I don’t see anything, but people I could have loved. But I also see people who WERE DEEPLY LOVED AND RESPECTED, who did not deserve any of this. This cannot continue. Fifty-seven years after Martin Luther King Jr. made his “I Have a Dream” speech, WE ARE STILL DREAMING. Treating people equally cannot possibly be that difficult. And this is not a case of “I don’t see color.” I see you. I see color. I see that beautiful melanin rich skin. This is a time when we need to build up our melanin rich brothers and sisters. I dream of a time when MY 600+ students can live in a world “where they are judged not by the color of their skin but by the content of their character” and a world where I don’t have to worry about them being shot for existing.  

I am white. I have privilege. And I will fight.

I. STAND. WITH. YOU.