Wednesday, August 20, 2014

Who's Afraid to Talk about Michael Brown?

Michael Brown
This afternoon I decided I needed to take some time and click on every Facebook link I could about Michael Brown, his murder, and the aftermath in Ferguson, Missouri. I decided I needed to do that because I am white. Because I don't have a black brother or cousin or best friend or partner, I can disengage from thinking about unprovoked violence against black bodies. I can decide the moments that I want to learn about the black experience in American and the times I don't. I can choose to hear short updates on NPR about the National Guard being called in, and decide that that can suffice for my knowledge of what's going on.

As Janee Woods so poignantly put it in her piece this week, "Becoming a White Ally to Black People in the Aftermath of the Michael Brown Murder":
"I am challenging white people to consider carefully whether failing to speak out or act because of... [their] fears is justified when white silence and inaction mean the oppression and death of black people. Let’s talk about an active role for white people in the fight against racism because racism burdens all of us and is destroying our communities."
It's not acceptable to check out of the outrage, the sadness, the fear, the conversation that Michael Brown's murder has brought if I or any other white person ever wants to think of ourselves as doing anti-racist work. If you have ever said or thought to yourself, "I'm not racist," then tell me, what have you been doing this week? I am not saying this to mock or shame anyone, but really truly asking myself and my white friends, what have we been doing? How many more young black people have to die before we are ready to admit that if black people and other people of color are less valued in this country, that inherently means we white people are more valued in this country. And the legitimacy and value given to our bodies and our voices means that we must, we MUST be loud, active voices in the fight for racial justice. Which is also called justice.

Since Michael Brown's murder on August 9th, I have learned a lot from my friends on Facebook. But true to Janee Woods' point, they were almost entirely my black friends. They linked to videos of reporters getting tear gassed and the terrifying use of police force, and militarization of local police forces. They cited the silence of celebrities who love to appropriate black culture for their financial gain, but have nothing to say about the violent realities of being black every day. They shared Melissa Harris-Perry's tribute to Michael Brown, Oscar Grant and the hundreds of other unarmed black people killed by police. (One shocking statistic she shared: "From 2006 to 2012, a white police officer killed a black person at least twice a week in this country.")

Renisha McBride
I am ashamed to admit that today, I had to stop reading and watching footage after just 30 minutes. It was painful. But that's the point, right? It IS painful and terrible and unacceptable that black people can be killed so callously and so frequently. We white people need to find ways to hear and see and feel the pain that is the reality for people of color in our country. If I walked up to a stranger's house to ask for help, no one would ever shoot me in the face like Theodore Wafer did to Renisha McBride, murdering her in November 2013. But black and brown parents all over this country have to deal with the reality that their child could be shot in the face if she asks for help, and that their unarmed child could be shot six times including twice in the head like Michael Brown.

So that is why I'm writing here. I want to hold myself accountable for going back to the news (especially non-mainstream), to social media, to people in my communities, over and over to learn and speak up and figure out what role I can play. I am committing to educating myself, my white friends and my white students on these particular series of events yes, but also the larger contexts that contribute to the unchecked murders of people of color in this country. I am asking all white readers to also reflect for yourself, how can you not be silent too?

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