Verified by 
Imagine this scene:
A woman is talking to her friend about the recent loss of her father.
“I’m just heartbroken. I never saw it coming. Just that morning, I visited him at home. We made some cookies together. He told me this story about the time he and his friend got in trouble with their teacher for passing notes in class. I went to the store, and when I got home, I found out.”
“O…k…” her friend replies.
“It’s just so unfair. He was such a good man, and to be taken away at such an early age. I didn’t even remember to tell him I loved him”
“I really don’t know what you’re complaining about.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I mean, life isn’t fair, is it? And I imagine that, if he died at an early age, he probably didn’t take care of himself.”
“How dare you!”
“I’m just saying. He probably brought it on himself. You need to move on with your life. I’ve lost people, too, and I bounced back. You can’t hold onto the past.”
If you were in the room, and you heard this exchange, you would be horrified. The nerve of this person dismissing the pain that her friend is experiencing. In such moments, the best way to support a person who is hurting is to listen. To give that person the benefit of being allowed to feel the emotions that they are feeling without judgment. Would you ever respond to someone who lost a family member in that way? I doubt it.
And yet, as we speak, the family of George Floyd is hurting. The conversation that is being had at the moment is important. I’d encourage you to watch the recent episode of John Oliver, which mixes humor and passion in its discussion of this issue (warning: there is a lot of profanity). In this conversation we are having now, some members of the conversation suggests that the black community protesting George Floyd’s treatment as a symbol of a larger racial injustice should stop dwelling on the past, bounce back, move on, and not feel angry.
A recent article by CBS News talks about the hashtag #SayTheirNames, which encourages people on social media to not only talk about racial profiling by the police, but to also say the names of the victims, to emphasize the humanity of the people who are victimized by the historical and implicit bias of our criminal justice system. It’s one thing to say things like, “Slavery ended in the 1860s!” or “I was poor, and I was able to succeed without getting in trouble with the law.” It’s another thing to say to the family of Eric Garner, or Trayvon Martin, or Tamir Rice, or Michael Brown or Philando Castile, or Breonna Taylor: “Sorry for your loss. Please stop complaining.”
What about Justin Howell, or Sean Monterrosa, or Jamel Floyd? What about the thousands of other black people in America who have story after story about being targeted by the police, the court system, the prison system, and the school system? Is every single one of those people lying? They can’t all be lying, right? So, how many stories like these have to be true for this country to be willing to face its racism?
How many people in your family and circle of friends would have to die at the hands of police before you started wondering if maybe you were being targeted? I’m guessing two. Maybe three.
The United States has a great set of documents, which propose that everyone should be treated equally and be given the opportunity to pursue lives of relative happiness, without interference from the government. Like every great mission, there are going to be flaws in the implementation. Our country has, from its inception, had a major problem with racism and white superiority. Just be honest. If you’re willing to admit that, then it’s not a huge leap to admit that the country might still not be treating black people right.
I had a conversation with a friend just the other day. When I brought up the concept of white privilege, the nasty reverse image of racism, his defensiveness was palpable. For my white readers, if the idea of you having white privilege is difficult because you feel it diminishes your accomplishments, let’s remove your personal interest in denying the concept.
For the sake of argument, let’s say that for you, white privilege did not help in any way. You have earned every single thing you have achieved without any privilege at all, and if you were black, your life would have turned out in exactly the same way. Congratulations!
If I grant you that, does that allow you to acknowledge that white privilege has helped some white people? How about for most white people? Have any white people recently benefited from their white skin? I’m not asking you to believe that it’s right, or that it’s not ridiculous, that it might be the case. Only that, your own personal anecdotes aside, you concede—out of compassion—that many white people in this country benefit from their whiteness. And that many black people’s lives are unfairly more difficult or dangerous because of their blackness.
Seriously. Just be honest. You don’t have to tell anyone what you think when you really consider it. But have the courage to recognize that we are living at a moment when life is not equally free for everybody yet.
Throughout history, people who stood up and demanded compassion and equality have always been met with resistance.
“If gay and lesbian people are given rights, our sons and daughters will be at risk.” Didn’t happen.
“If women are given more rights, the institution of the family will crumble.” Nope.
“We can’t give poor people any help, or no one will want to work.” Sorry.
“If we give ____ an inch, they’re gonna take a mile.” Doesn’t really work like that.
Looking back on it, we now seem to agree that gay people, lesbian people, women, poor people, had legitimate gripes, and deserve to be heard and respected.
We’re being told over and over again that black people feel oppressed and targeted. We need to believe them, and feel compassion, and listen, and show our support. Just like you’d want other people to do for you if your father died. Let go of your resistance to the anger you are seeing. It will be OK if you open up and see things through the eyes of those who are speaking.
The human race is going to either perish together by our own violence and bigotry, or survive and thrive together. The latter outcome cannot happen without everyone having a stake in the game, and feeling like they’re part of the team. We’re all in this together. Now is the time for our country to let go of its defensiveness and choose the path of love and justice for all.
