I feel that I should start off by saying: I have not abandoned this blog. I have been suffering from a lack of inspiration and good ole writer’s block...amongst other things. Since the last blog entry, my life has changed considerably. From being diagnosed with a disorder to watching my grandfather die of liver cancer, my life seems to be a continuing saga of sorts. But alas, in all of my drama and despair, I have found a topic that I have an urgent need to discuss: black men and the police.
I do not want to beat a dead horse. I think, by now, everyone has weighed in on the tumultuous relationship that exists between the black community and law enforcement. This week, we all were reminded once more of this facet of black life when the murderer of Oscar Grant, Johannes Mehserle, was found guilty of involuntary manslaughter. Grant was shot in the back by Mehserle on New Year’s Day 2009, as he laid face down and handcuffed on a passenger platform at a BART station in Oakland, California.
Soon after the verdict was read, many wondered if Oakland would have any riots that would be similar to those from the early 90s. I find it preposterous to think that anyone would support the destruction of any community, but than again people do love drama at any expense. As I sat back in my chair pondering the absurdity of the conclusion of the trial, a profound sadness touched me. My melancholy emerged from the realization that I may too one day know an Oscar Grant. The funny thing about life is that a tragedy only remains thus for a certain amount of time. After a number of tears are shed, a few heart-felt words are spoken; everyone moves on with their lives and forgets. But, I know that I cannot and should not forget this trial as I have the others for one simple reason: My life is littered with black men.
From my father to my ex-boyfriends, I am so honored to say that I know masculine, intelligent, cultured, brave, and loving black men of all hues. But being all of these wonderful things does not protect any black man from the bullets and torture of an officer. Who is to say that one day one of the men that I love and admire will not join the names of Oscar Grant, Abner Louima, and Amadou Diallo as one of the countless numbers of black men who have lost their lives to senseless violence perpetuated by law enforcement? The fact that a community has to live in fear of those who take an oath to protect and serve is not some great plot in a crime/thriller novel, it is my reality and the reality of millions of blacks across this country.
I currently live with one of my brothers. He is 12 yrs old, quiet, well-mannered, and artistic. I marvel at the way he is slowly leaving his childhood to enter his manhood. But, as pristine as it may look and sound, I know the dangers of what it means to be a black man in America. Since the Grant trial has come to a close, I find myself looking for words to explain to him the potential dangers that exist simply because of his gender and race. I search to no avail. How do you tell a 12 yr old that he must be wary of those in uniform, because to them all he may appear to be is a stereotype…a statistic? I don’t want to scare him, but I also don’t want him to be naive. I don’t know how or when I will approach him with this horrifying talk. But I know it better be soon rather than later, because too many of our beautiful black brothers are being remembered for the way they died, rather than for the way they lived.
Pic via theblackcouple.com
