I watched in horror as the police pulled their guns on my husband. We had just moved into our new house and we had reason to believe someone had broken in (thankfully we were mistaken). We called 911 for help and the police arrived within minutes. As they surrounded our house they peered in with their flashlights. My 6’2” 285 pound black husband went to open the door for them, and every single officer raised their guns and pointed them at him.
The police officers assumed he was the intruder, not the homeowner. We were literally one jittery trigger finger away from the kind of tragedy we are sadly hearing all too often on the news. Thank goodness my husband was “trained” for this kind of interaction with law enforcement. He raised his hands and stayed still and in plain sight. And every time I hear of yet another shooting of an unarmed black man, I thank God that my husband didn’t get shot that night.
My husband is regularly pulled over by the local police. Every single time, they refuse to give him a reason for stopping him. They ask for his license; they run it and his plates. Then they let him go without an explanation. He has never received a ticket or a warning for any sort of infraction. He’s just a black man, suspicious for driving his own car to and from work in one of the wealthiest counties in America.
Just last week, my husband was sitting in a parking lot waiting for the post office to open so he could mail a package. A patrol car pulled up, and the officer parked and proceeded to watch my husband for over 20 minutes. Only when my husband got out of his vehicle and walked into the post office with a package in hand did the officer drive away. A black man is suspicious sitting quietly in his own vehicle at 9am waiting for the post office to open.
Then there is the “neighbor" who told my husband to "get the F@$& off my property" and threatened to call the police because my husband asked him to slow down and observe the speed limit (he had almost run our son over as he flew down the street). And then, despite the fact that my husband promptly did as asked, this man went ahead and called the police anyway. The police came and they drove past our house numerous times. Thankfully three white neighbors stood with my husband. Otherwise, who knows what would have happened? Now, our beloved street feels a little less safe to us.
Do you freely go for a walk by yourself around your neighborhood? My husband would never, ever consider doing that. Have you ever been called the N-word? Or “boy”? My husband has. Has your child been made fun of for his “black hair?” Ours has, at our local summer camp. Has your child been told the President hates people with his skin color? Ours has, by a preschool classmate. Has anyone ever assumed your child was adopted when they saw you together? I’ve had several people in my own neighborhood make that assumption.
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As they surrounded our house they peered in with their flashlights. My 6’2” 285 pound black husband went to open the door for them, and every single officer raised their guns and pointed them at him.
I have many, many, many more examples we could give. Some of them are scary. Many of them are everyday things that most of us never notice. On their own, each is frustrating. Collectively, it’s all angering and exhausting.
Racism exists everywhere. In every single community. In big ways and small ways. Every. Single. Day. It isn’t just police killing black people. It’s so deeply embedded in how we think and live and breath that, unless it’s happening to us, we can’t fathom that it’s happening at all.
It’s the way many of us never even interact with people of other races because we prize sameness rather than difference.
It’s the delusional belief in the myth of the big, scary black man and the biases that creates.
It’s the way those biases start as early as preschool and the way our most gifted young black boys are being passed over.
It’s barriers in education.
It’s barriers to homeownership.
It’s higher rates of incarceration.
It’s how racial economic inequality remains an undeniable force in American life.
It’s the way the US stock market’s wealth generator has failed black Americans
It’s the way black-owned small businesses are most at risk because they have smaller savings accounts, more debt, and less access to banks and capital than their white counterparts.
It’s the way the Great Recession hammered black Americans harder than other Americans (and they are still recovering) and now they’re bearing the brunt of the COVID-19 pandemic
It’s the way racial inequality creates gaps in health insurance coverage, uneven access to services, and poorer health outcomes for black families.
It’s the way some of us call the police not for protection but to demonstrate that we have the power to say “you don’t belong here.”
It’s that getting killed by police is a leading cause of death for young black men in America.
It goes on and on and on...
So, as you think about George Floyd and imagine that racism is “out there,” think again.
The hurt is everywhere. In every community. If you don’t see it, it just means you’re not talking to the people who are experiencing it.
That’s where we must start. We cannot create a society where all men are truly equal and every community flourishes if we don’t understand how badly the deck is stacked against so many of us and listen to and acknowledge the deep anguish that causes. Then, all of us must commit to repairing the broken places. In our nation. But also in our families, in our schools, and on the streets of our own neighborhoods. To that end, the next time you see a black man walking down your street, stay on the same side of the road and say hello.