After I saw the video, I cried. That’s the first thing I did. Just in shock and awe of the situation, just the cruel reminder that this happened, that it was real…I cried.
I’m spent. I went hard with the Trayvon Martin case. I went hard with Eric Garner. I continue to advocate hard for Ferguson. And now there’s Walter Scott.
And then, after recovering, I started wondering…am I going to advocate hard for justice for Walter Scott?
Because it’s not just about Walter Scott, really. This is a very selfish goal I have: I don’t want to be shot by a police officer. I want it to be the very last resort. And if a family member is shot, I want to make damn sure that the killer sees justice.
But I found myself not wanting to have this conversation. I know this is cliche, but I almost wasn’t even gonna write about this until I got my bearings and steeled myself for another leg in this long fight for equality. But I also felt I should write something. Because most of my fellow atheists who may read my blog…are likely to overlook things unless I say something. One of the difficult things here is that I have to address this story fresh, while I’m still reeling, because it’s when people are paying the most attention to it. The attention span of the majority of Americans is eager to “move on” from instances of racism, so I gotta go now before there’s a chance to do that.
What I decided, then, was to write about why I’m not looking forward to the future of this story’s development.
I’m not looking forward to it, because I know that there is a major divide in this country between black people and white people that will be reflected in these conversations. I’m not looking forward to white people who are bound to use this as an example that racism against white people is a serious problem (especially as most of my fellow atheists are white men, a demographic that, in my experience and statistically, is rather insistent on that point — just the facts). I’m also not looking forward to white people saying that it’s racist for me to say that it is predominantly white people who are protecting the officers in this shooting. I’m not looking forward to another post from other anti-theists who are bound to make jokes about it, or to the hundreds of likes I’m going to see on yet another incendiary status update about this, or to the long back and forth I’m bound to have in the comment section because I can’t stand that problem being there. I’m not looking forward to Bill O’Reilly somehow turning this into a subtly but strategically racist discussion about how this shooting is proof of the problem of absent fathers in America. I’m not looking forward to the Kelly File insisting that it’s not about race. And don’t get me started on Fox & Friends.
I’m not looking forward to people who will straw-man my arguments and say I’m anti-law enforcement. I’m not looking forward to the far Christian right who are going to be telling me that, because he ran, he should have been shot. I’m not looking forward to the people who are going to use the red herring of black male murder rates to turn this into a “what are you doing about black on black crime” scenario. I’m also not looking forward to the many stories I’m sure to hear about black teens who killed white people and got life in prison as proof that black on white racism is just as bad as white on black racism. I’m not looking forward to false equivalency cases of black cops shooting white individuals who went to jail or who didn’t have a goddamn video of shooting a suspect eight times in the back.
I’m not looking forward to arguing about how this is a story about poverty, not about race (for the umpteenth time, when you’re discriminated against, you’re likely to be poor). I’m not looking forward to the fact that Walter Scott — and by extension, the black man in general — will have his name dragged through the mud for being behind on child support payments. I’m not looking forward to people dismissing my anger at law enforcement by saying, “Yeah, but what did Walter Scott do to provoke the officer?”
I’m not looking forward to having to deal with the apologists for Michael Slager (the policeman who shot Scott) if he is not convicted. If he is convicted, I’m not looking forward to all the discussions of people who are sure to say that this is not like the other cases. If there is an investigation into the area of North Charleston, South Carolina, where the shooting happened and it turns out there is prejudice comparable to Ferguson, I’m not looking forward to being reminded of those who smile in my face while perpetuating widespread racism behind the scenes. I’m definitely not looking forward to the debates on whether the outrage regarding the shooting are justified or whether racism in North Charleston is a microcosm, as Ferguson (I have to argue) was, of much larger national problems.
I’m not looking forward to having to view the video repeatedly and feel the shots throughout my bones every time, causing me to break down repeatedly. I’m not looking forward to feeling like nothing I do is going to get people to pay attention. I’m not looking forward to being more afraid of police officers in a country that is in denial. I’m not looking forward to this leading, as studies indicate, to more (not less) white Americans wanting police to be tougher on crime. I’m not looking forward to trying to find a way to stop this problem through tears and frustration and banging on walls that don’t seem to give. And I’m not looking forward to hearing mostly white people say in response that I should be happy this country has allowed me to eat in a decent restaurant without having to sit at a different table, as was not possible then, and for them to indicate I should be happy with what I got. I’m not looking forward to trying to unearth the causes of black oppression, turning up stones, and finding that I’m in a worse situation than I thought I was. I’m not looking forward to repeatedly realizing that maybe I can’t stop the problem.
Also, I’m having so much trouble trying to figure out how I as a black man can act to make the streets and society safer, that I’m also not looking forward to having to give white people advice when they ask me how they can best deal with the problem of blackness and whiteness in this country. I am not sure. Part of me wants to say that I don’t have my own answers; do I really have to figure out yours, too? But then I’m also not looking forward to the people who won’t care, who won’t ask, who won’t take risks, who are fine with the status quo. I’m not looking forward to the anger the complacence is sure to inspire in me. So either way, even with the most well-meaning white people, I am not looking forward to dealing with the white people who choose to engage or with the white people who do not.
And I realize that’s a catch-22 for white people, but that’s the honest truth. Oppression in society is like being innocent and locked in a cell, and the privileged people are the guards. The guards ask you, “What can we do to get you out?” I don’t know. If you can do something, do it. I’ll help you. But the guards are part of a much larger system that is oppressing me that I don’t know all about; I only know that I am oppressed. That’s all I know without doing additional research (that you could be doing yourself, by the way). I know that I am not the problem; I am innocent. And maybe you are, too. But we’re part of a system that is bigger than both of us but involves us, and that’s not OK, and I don’t have all the answers as to how to fix it, and that doesn’t mean I can’t be angry that I’m metaphorically (and, considering black male prison rates, somewhat literally) “locked up” or trapped in a marginalized identity that makes me afraid of the country that I, too, am a citizen of, when I’m behind the wheel or walking down the street.
I’m not looking forward to being seen as a problem, to talking about how much a problem I am, to being told to “solve” myself as a problem. I’m not looking forward to well-meaning attempts to start the conversation, end the conversation, or ignore the conversation. I’m not looking forward to coming up with solutions when we’ve tried that before (remember video cameras) and they often don’t work (remember Eric Garner? And maybe Walter Scott).
And I’m not looking forward to pondering the fact that the police officer could get away so easily with a lie on Saturday (before the video came out on Tuesday) will make me uncomfortable, and to thinking about the fact that a police officer can get away with shooting someone down like that and expect the case to be dismissed.
That’s really all. I don’t have hard solutions. I don’t have the magic bullet; if I did, I woulda shot it already. Maybe back at Trayvon Martin I would have had something, but right now I’m spent. Let me get my bearings, prepare myself for this next incident for a couple days, and I might have something more satisfying.
Or maybe not. Maybe resigned fear is the closest I can come to a solution. Maybe what I need to do is accept that I’m a second class citizen and shut up with the whining. Maybe that’s the best route I have left.
I don’t have a tidy bow to wrap around this except to say…right now, I’m just done. Maybe I’ll come back later, but right now, I’m just blindsided and done.