Weekend Thoughts
There are a lot of thoughts circulating in my head, many of which I’ve been trying to make sense of for a long time. These include (in no particular order) the two recently held very divergent political conventions; the death of yet another black man shot in the back seven times by a white police officer while the man’s children watched; a 17-year-old white youth who was driven by his mother armed with assault weapons to the community where the black man was shot and who ultimately shot and killed two people and wounded another; and the death of actor Chadwick Boseman.
I’ve had a pretty quiet weekend, one where I didn’t work, but spent much of the time in solitude, hiking and thinking. Some memories that have long been buried resurfaced. It’s all resulted in a few realizations. Here they are:
On the Democratic and Republican National Conventions: Full disclosure – I watched all four nights of the Democratic Convention in real time, while I only watched clips from the Republican Convention. I was inspired by the Democratic Convention, which I thought was filled with hope and promise. I thought the Republican Convention portrayed the opposite. I’m sure that many Republicans saw it completely different.
For the past four years, I have struggled to understand how Christians can defend someone who seems to me to be the antithesis of Jesus Christ. Ironically, some of the answers to my questions may have come from comments made on my friends’ social media pages by people shaming them for their beliefs. Another note of disclosure here: I’ve pretty much completed a digital cleanse from my social media accounts of the people who used to post shaming and hateful comments to me, but my friends haven’t taken the same drastic measures. But those shaming comments directed at my friends provided some insight that I had failed to acknowledge in the past. While I consider character and integrity, as well as the candidate’s platform, it seems many people are single-issue voters and will vote party above all else. While I believe in unity, others believe in division.
On the shooting of Jacob Blake by a white police officer in Kenosha, Wisconsin: I have no words other than I am once again sickened that this keeps happening. I listened to the emotional comments of Los Angeles Clippers coach Doc Rivers, “It's amazing to me why we keep loving this country and this country does not love us back." When I heard his comments, I was reminded of the words of my colleague, Cassandra when we recorded a Texas Injury Prevention Leadership Collaborative Conversation on race in June. Cassandra said that her father told her at a very young age “that you need to understand the world doesn’t love you.” These weren’t comments meant to hurt his daughter, but the words of a black man trying to help his black daughter learn to be strong. I’ve heard similar stories from my black friends, and it just breaks my heart.
On the 17-year-old and his mother who drove to Kenosha for some misguided entitlement or other reason that I can’t begin to fathom: I am outraged that people are glorifying his actions, including Fox News host Tucker Carlson and conservative commentator Ann Coulter who tweeted “I want him as my president.”
We had a discussion about “coded words” a few weeks ago on a conference call. I was reminded about this discussion and a tweet from my friend and colleague Ina Robinson when I heard the words being used to describe the 17-year-old. When a black person protests against decades of systemic racism and law enforcement killings, they are called thugs. When a white person armed with assault weapons, shoots and kills protesters (even white protesters), and brags about it, he is called a vigilante. Let’s not mince words. The 17-year-old and his mother are criminals.
I am very supportive of law enforcement. I have worked closely with some of the finest police and public safety officers who put their life on the line every day, but I am so tired of hearing people (and it’s not the officers) reject the need for law enforcement retraining and blame the problems of today on belligerent, entitled youth consumed with their phones and social media. Forty-five years ago, I was a belligerent, entitled 17-year-old consumed with different distractions, but consumed with them just the same. The difference is that my parents would never have driven me or even my male cousins to another community to shoot and kill someone.
And finally, on the death of Chadwick Boseman: I have seen only one of the actor’s movies – Black Panther, although I will now watch 42 and Marshall. I’m not a fan of action movies, but I saw Black Panther on its opening weekend and loved every minute of the film in which Boseman portrays King T’Challa of the technologically advanced African nation of Wakanda. I left the theatre with a “crush” on Boseman and energized and wishing the fictional Wakanda actually existed.
I woke on August 29 to the news of Boseman’s death at 43 of advanced colon cancer, and I felt heartsick. Boseman’s death brought back memories of the death of my friend, Lt. J.C. Burris, Jr., an 18-year veteran of the Oklahoma Highway Patrol, who also died way too soon from colon cancer. I was honored to be asked to speak at J.C.’s memorial service in 2006. It’s been 14 years since he and I engaged in one of our “spirited” conversations. I wish I could talk to him now. I wonder what he would think about the turmoil in our nation.
There is a lot of pain right now. More than 183,000 people have died from COVID-19 in the U.S., as of this blog post. Systemic racism still inhabits our country and our politics. There’s very little that I can do, and yet a lot that I can do. There’s a decal with a motivational quote behind my desk in my apartment to remind of this. It says, “It is what it is, but it will become what you make it.”
I’m feeling sad, yet recharged. I will channel my anger into positive action. I will spend time (even if it’s just on Zoom) with people who lift me up and are traveling on the same path. I’ll keep learning. And, I’ll try really hard to stop paying attention to those who choose shame.
