Two years after arriving, reluctantly, at the realization that the Confederate statues in my old home town would have to be removed, I revisited Richmond and was a little surprised they were still there. I drove along Monument Avenue, circling the statues in their roundabouts. I walked around the lovely park up on Libby Hill overlooking the James River, with its stately granite column honoring Confederate soldiers and sailors. People were out strolling, some resting on benches. There were no signs of graffiti, no other signs of strife. People, Black and White, greeted me as they walked by under the gaze of the bronze soldier standing relaxed, as if weary, atop the column.
Yesterday I watched the memorial service for George Floyd. It was a ceremony of respectful reflection on his life by his family and others who knew him. It was also an expression of determination and resolve to force changes to systemic American injustice, far stronger than the “We Shall Overcome Some Day” of years past. It was a church moment, one different from the other church moments3 punctuating the turmoil that has defined these days of disruption.
Just last week I wrote about Trump’s Covid-19 response, and trying to get the nation to pull together in spite of him (The Value of Hatred). In doing that I was criticized for not being sensitive to the systematic oppression of Black people. Things I wrote about Trump were interpreted in light of the President’s (later) actions and statements on the demonstrations following the brutal killing of George Floyd. There’s no point now in trying to explain what I was trying to say about hatred and how it is so destructive in handling the pandemic, but I was not writing about George Floyd. Well, that was then. Covid-19 is no longer at the top of the headlines, and now our attention is focused on racial justice. So let’s turn to that.
It’s about time.
The depth and extent of racial injustice in America is not misunderstood. It is ignored.
If you condemn the protests and do not condemn the cop slowly choking George Floyd until he died, you are ignoring the cause. If you think protesters are looters and window smashers, you are ignoring not only the cause of the protest but the reality of the protest. Protesters and looters are not the same people. Looters came in cars to take advantage of the situation. In Minneapolis, the epicenter of the unrest, almost all of those arrested for looting were from out of state. *[Edit: See 6/7/2020 comment] Many of those arrested were identified with White supremacy groups. If you condemn the violence when protest got “out of control” did you ignore the fact that there were as many White people as Black people involved? Not that it changes anything, but where was your angry voice when Philadelphia “celebrated” their Super Bowl win in 2018? Stores were looted, cars were overturned, street lights were toppled. People set fires, fought with each other, and damaged property to the extent of millions of dollars. Oh, that was different. You might also be ignoring video evidence of the police provoking peaceful protesters in the current protests. Your Mom’s old question of “Who started it?” does no more good now than it ever did. “See what a scourge is laid upon your hate… ”
“… All are punished.”
Does a burning police car upset you more than police killing a man by kneeling on his neck? If it does, is it because you are sure it will never happen to you? And is that because of your skin color?
If you’re White like me and you want to do something but don’t know what to do, here’s a list. (Thanks, Sid. I hear you.) 75 Things White People Can Do for Racial Justice. Read the whole list, then pick one to start. By the way, you don’t have to be a White to do these things; it’s just that the list is made for us because we need to catch up.