I remember talking on the telephone with my dad about the death of Amadou Diallo. My dad put it simply: “If he’d been white, he’d be alive.”
That was 1999. And now again, with the death of George Floyd, as with so many other deaths: If he’d been white, he’d be alive. I think it really is that simple.
Thursday, May 28, 2020
Same as it ever was
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Absolutely!
A white coworker and I were talking about our black boss, who we both love.
My coworker said that in the light of the police murder of George Floyd in our neighborhood he now sees what he didn't before:
that every day our boss lives with that possibility of being taken down by the police, and we don't.
It's that simple.
Yes, it is. I’m fearful when I get pulled over by the police (twice in the last thirty years). But that’s just nerves — I know it’s unlikely in the extreme that anything’s going to happen to me beyond a ticket or a warning. I don’t have a target on my back by virtue of my color.
Do you remember this story from my blog?
I do remember. The acrid smoke and the sound of helicopters I hear right now at midnight is like the inevitable response to years and years of injustice. Scary, but that's how history rolls.
It really does feel like we’re coming to a breaking point. I wonder what will come after it — a better country, or something much worse.
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