Originally written in July of 2016.
[A police whistle blows...]
My life matters.
You know me... We get coffee together every morning. You know me... I am the guy that lives down the street from you. You know me... Our kids play together. You know me... I am the guy you work with. You know me... We're friends.
Like you, I am an American. I learned the pledge of allegiance just like you did.
What is going on?! What the f%@# is going on?
My life matters.
"Honey, your brake light is out..." were the words that I heard that sent me down this path of fear. As I gasped inside, the dialog began in my head... "I should get that fixed. I should get that fixed right away! Because, if I get pulled over... I don't want to get pulled over. No, wait, they would just give me a ticket, right?! Or could it be worse?... A brake light out would be a reason to pull me over, so I have to get it fixed... But what if I get pulled over while I am going to get it fixed?! Maybe my wife (who's white) could drive my car to get it fixed for me... Wait, this is crazy... I should be able to get my own car light fixed without fear, right?!" What is going on?!
My life matters.
My internal dialog continues... "Ok, well if I did get pulled over, what would I do? Let's see, I could pull out my wallet, then ID quickly and put it on the dashboard. Then, reach into the glove compartment to get my insurance card... But wait, if the cop sees me reaching toward my glove compartment before he comes over, will he think I am getting a gun?! So, I should wait and not move... I should know this, right? I could look it up online, but would it matter?"
My life matters.
Internal dialog continues... "I'm taking my 3.5 year-old son into school this morning, so if a cop did pull me over, maybe he'd be less likely to hurt me because I have a kid with me... Wait... that's f%$@ed up! Should I be thinking I'm safer with my son with me? Is this how it is that I am depending on my child to save my life?! Dude, that's messed up!"
My life matters.
50 years ago, my grandfather, a black man, was a police officer in New York City. I still remember the day about 30 years ago after he'd retired when he gave me his police whistle. I still have it. I wonder what he would say about the state of affairs today...
Knowing him, I imagine he would shake his head and say that it was too bad and mind his own business. I knew him as a kind man, who liked the outdoors - fishing, crabbing, building tree swings for my sister and me when we where kids and teaching me to climb trees. He seemed to enjoy nature. He had his golfing buddies he went out with as often a possible. People ask me occasionally if I play golf and my answer is always, "I own clubs,” clubs which he gave me.
What does any of this have to do with anything? Well, his life did matter. My grandfather's story could have been very different. Rather than serving 20 years in the New York police department, and serving in the military, meeting my grandmother dancing at the Savoy ballroom, having my mother and raising a family in New York,... he could have been killed by the bullet of oppression.
Thankfully, that did not happen and he lived a long life well into his 80's.
I don't think that I can just mind my own business. I want to live a long life like him. I don't want to be killed by the bullet of oppression. Getting to the bottom of this should be all of our business. My neighbors and yours are getting killed. I don't feel safe. Others like me don't feel safe.
50 years ago very bad things were happening to black people. Unfortunately, bad things are happening to black people today. There is something wrong here, today. How do I reconcile my fear of the police with the knowledge that they are here to protect me? What do I do? I really don't know what to do. Do you?
So, if I say to you that my life matters, does it mean that yours doesn't? If I say that women's lives matter, does it mean that men's lives don't? If I say that BLACK LIVES MATTER?...
My life matters.
[In my home, a police whistle blows... (My 3.5 year-old son is playing with the police whistle that belonged to his great grandfather.)]