My Eyes Are Open

Posted on | August 14, 2014 | 4 Comments

This morning, my son made himself toast with butter for breakfast. He made it all by himself and my GOD I want to be thinking of that milestone and celebrating that milestone and being the mom who is so caught up in the amazing intricacies of my son’s life that I can’t be bothered with the world outside.

But I am bothered by the world outside.

And honestly, if you’re not? If you’re not bothered by the world outside the four walls of your space then maybe you and I should have a little talk.

Last week, the Leadership class that I’m a part of had a “Race Relations” day. We did a lot of listening about the history of racial tension in our own town and a lot of talking about things that maybe don’t get talked about enough. Things like “Driving While Black.” Things like the clash within the Black community over Rap and Hip Hop culture. Things like knowing people aren’t somehow thinking less of you because your skin pigment is different than theirs.

At one point, one of the young black men in my class stood and asked an honest question. He asked how many of us, how many of us on the other side of the room… the white side of the room, hear a joke with the “n” word in it and laugh. And how many of us say to the joke teller it is wrong.

My gut reaction was one of denial. I NEVER laugh at those jokes, I announced, horrified that someone would ever do so. But as the week has passed, I’ve thought of the times some of the older generation in my family have said that word. I thought of the times I’d held my tongue because of the “respect your elders” that has been drilled into me. I thought about the times I’d turned a blind eye and blind ear to the racial comments, racist undertones, and just plain wrong assumptions that are made around me on a daily basis.

And I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me want to weep, not for myself… not for the Black community… but weep for the world I am handing to my son. A world where Ferguson, Missouri exists. A world where members of  the White community immediately roll their eyes and say “We don’t know the WHOLE story, though do we?” Should the WHOLE story matter, at least in this case? In the grand scheme of things, does it matter if words were exchanged or even if violence was exchanged, when the end result is an 18 year old on his knees with his hands raised, and a police officer still shooting him? Am I handing my son a world where my Black friends are scared to pull over when a police officer is behind them because they just don’t know what he or she might do to them? Am I really sending him out into a world where White privilege is so prevalent, so overwhelming, that the White people don’t notice it and the Black and Hispanic communities can’t avoid it.

I want to focus on the fact that my son made himself toast this morning.

I want desperately to focus on the fact that he made that damn toast.

But what a disservice I would do to my heart, to my brothers and sisters in the Black community, to my brothers and sisters in Ferguson, Missouri and around the world who wake up every day knowing that THEY might be harmed for no reason… for being young… for being black… for being disrespectful or too respectful or maybe just for BEING. What a disservice I would be doing if I focused on toast, while the world around me weeps over or ignores another example of how far we still have to come.

Forty some years ago, a lone Black man stood at a podium and made a speech that should have changed the world. He stood and spoke words that should have stirred hearts for decades, for centuries even.

But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languished in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. And so we’ve come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.”

One hundred years. Will it be that long before another change comes? There is a shameful condition being dramatized right now… today… in Ferguson Missouri. In your town. Maybe even in your neighborhood.  And it’s been forty years since that speech was made.

It will STILL be here in forty more years, if we turn our eyes away from Ferguson, Missouri, from Trayvon Martin, from the immigrants in Texas, from the poverty and the abject humiliation that so many of our brothers and sisters face every day. We are all one, are we not? One nation, indivisible.

Indivisible. Not Invisible.

Seeing. Not blind.

Open your eyes.

Comments

4 Responses to “My Eyes Are Open”

  1. pinkflipflops44
    August 14th, 2014 @ 9:45 pm

    Amen!

  2. Guest
    August 21st, 2014 @ 5:19 pm

    I hesitate to say this because we don’t know one another and you can’t look me in the eyes and I know my heart on this. I’m going to write it anyway and hope that you can either help me see something I’m not seeing or maybe see a different perspective yourself. For me, it does matter what led up to Michael Brown’s death. And I think for any court of law it matters. If he was physically abusive/rushing an officer whose life was being threatened, doesn’t that officer have a right to defend himself? Perhaps Darren Wilson truly is a racist, bloodthirsty officer in which case he should be tried, convicted and serve out his sentence. Or perhaps Michael Brown was being stopped for a robbery and became violent. I don’t know. I wasn’t there and neither were the vast majority of people writing about it. It absolutely boggles my mind, however, that so many people are immediately calling it discrimination when we know very little beyond a white officer shot a black man. In cases where facts are few and emotions are plentiful, isn’t the wisest approach to hold judgment until the facts are clear? Truly, I may absolutely be missing something here and I’d love to know what that is because for now, I don’t understand this attitude of “it doesn’t matter what happened, it was wrong”.

  3. lawmomma
    August 21st, 2014 @ 9:47 pm

    I think we are looking in two different directions. From what I have heard, the shots were fired when Mr Brown was on his knees with his hands raised. To me… That’s wrong. Could something have happened before that, maybe. Could Mr Brown have been a real jerk? Maybe. But if, at the time he was shot and killed, he was on his knees with his hands in the air and no weapon… Then yeah… That’s just wrong.

  4. Guest
    August 21st, 2014 @ 10:08 pm

    Jaywalking and being a jerk are absolutely not punishable by death and if that is the case, of course I think that’s wrong. But the accounts vary so widely (Mr. Brown on his knees, hands in the air; Mr. Wilson has a broken eye socket and Mr. Brown reached for his gun), that I don’t think any of us know. And you know what’s really scary to me? Will we ever REALLY know or will it always be Mr. Brown’s friends versus Mr. Wilson’s account? Until we know more facts, though, it seems unwise to serve as judge and jury. I don’t disagree at all with what you say about the daily discrimination people face and that we are not nearly where we need to be. I just struggle with people pinning THAT discussion on this case when we don’t know what happened. I appreciate you taking time to listen (read?) and respond, truly.

  • Creative Commons License
    Spilled Milk (and Other Atrocities) by Law Momma is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
    Based on a work at http://www.law-momma.com.
  • Twitter

  • Enter your email address:

    Delivered by FeedBurner

  •  


  • Grab my button for your blog!