March began hopeful, the way Spring is supposed to make one feel. Countless ceremonies commemorated the historic crossing of the Edmund Pettus Bridge. Ava Duvernay’s Selma set the tone. Critically acclaimed, though apparently not Oscar-worthy, Duvernay’s depiction of the pivotal demonstration that introduced an otherwise sleeping nation to the true face of Jim Crow seemed to arrive right on time. It came just as the nation began recovering from the fallout of the unjustified deaths of Michael Brown and Eric Garner and the subsequent unrest that followed. With the slogan “Black Lives Matter” on everyone’s radar, we seemed ripe for a national conversation on race. As March marched on, it became painfully evident that the ground gained between Selma and Ferguson gets smaller and smaller the closer you look at it.
Déjà vu
Let’s hold hands, take a deep breath, and say it together: Unarmed Black men getting killed by the police is perfectly normal in the United States. They say that the truth will set you free and acknowledgement is the first step towards recovery. For those still in denial, the events of March 6, 2015 in Madison, Wisconsin should serve as a wake-up call. Nineteen-year old Tony Robinson was shot and killed by a Madison police officer. Yes, he was Black. Yes, he was unarmed.
Just to prove how insanely cyclical the state sanctioned murder of African-American men and boys has become, I will just use my own exact words from an August 12, 2014 article:
“…the shooting has triggered… a nauseating feeling of deja vu across Black America. We’ve been here before. We’ve lost so many sons to police violence that we no longer feel shock or awe in these instances. The only emotion left is a numb familiar grieving. As a community, we’ve become uniquely accustomed to the tears of inconsolable mothers. We are far too well acquainted with the sight of youthful faces lying in caskets. It is our tragic second nature to feel abandoned by those who have promised to protect us. It seems at times that the great burden of being Black in America is the traumatic and near constant expectation of injustice.”
If I had to re-write the epitaph of our perpetual misery every time that we lost a young man this way, as the mother of a 15-year-old African-American young man, I might well become physically ill. Thank God for the cut and paste function.
You Think Parker’s a Problem Now…
By the second week in March, the whole world had labeled a predominately white and male institution as racist. It wasn’t the Ferguson Police Department or the NYPD or any overarching law enforcement agency for that matter. The unlucky bearers of the dreaded “r-word” were members of a fraternity whose historical roots trace back to the antebellum South. Members of the Sigma Alpha Epsilon Fraternity, Incorporated were recorded singing a racist chant on their way to a party. I don’t know which is more aggravating: the fact that people were actually shocked that a predominately white frat founded in 1856 had a racist chant as a part of their tradition, or the fact that some viewed the actions of the members to be the absolute pinnacle of racist behavior. So this may be a news flash to some, a drunk white boy saying “nigger” on a bus full of white folks is the least of Black folks’ problems.
One of the alleged ringleaders was identified as Parker Rice. To his credit, Parker apologized for his embarrassing behavior, blamed alcohol and tradition, and swore that he was not a racist. And I believe Parker. We’ve penalized him for breaking a cardinal rule of race relations, but the environment and culture in which Parker has come of age will prove to make him much more dangerous several years from now, long after he’s graduated. When Parker is the Vice President of some large and influential institution (perhaps a bank or university) and he’s given the resumes of two potential candidates for a single position, even though both candidates’ credentials are the same, Parker will invariably choose Daniel Smith over Dante’ Smith when given the chance. And it won’t be because Parker learned some racist chant while pledging. There are some CEO’s (dare I say even some of color) who would never breathe a racial slur in their lives that are guilty of that practice today. The racism that we see is small bananas compared to the racism that we do not see.
No Easy Task
So what’s the solution? Does a path exist that leads to that elusive post-racial America? Or are we doomed to continue repeating our patterns of prejudice and intolerance? The leadership at Starbucks took a stab at that question and, depending on who you ask, either they got an “E” for effort or they failed miserably. America’s race problems were never going to be decided over a cup of coffee, nor do I believe that the good folks at Starbucks ever truly believed they would. Nevertheless, they took a big step for an American corporation. They acknowledged the problem (in their own barista-led way).
No, Starbucks doesn’t have the answer. No one does. The problems are more deep-seeded and inherent than most people would like to admit. Black cops are just as likely to harass Black youth. Older Black women clutch their purses a little tighter when a man with dreadlocks approaches. Some people find that their heart rate will naturally accelerate when they see a person of Middle Eastern origin board a plane. None of these things makes one racist. It makes us human –humans who have been influenced by media bias, culturally ignorant traditions, and the out-and-out wrongheaded teachings of others. The idea is to recognize the tightening of your hands and consciously ease up or push through the increased pounding of your heart and deliberately acknowledge the individual as a person, no different than yourself. It certainly isn’t the answer; but it’s a start.
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