I did not want to write this post.
I have readers of differing backgrounds, orientations, spiritual beliefs, political affiliations, etc. The thing that unites us is a desire to grow into better versions of ourselves. That reality makes writing about social issues difficult, especially in our current climate where virtually anything you say about a controversial topic is likely to be used as a political cudgel to beat you with.
I decided to proceed because I think most of us, despite our differences, believe in truth, freedom, dignity, inclusion, equality, love, respect, and compassion. We should be able to talk about how well we’re doing at living out these shared values, both as individuals and a society, without it devolving into a political shouting match. This type of analysis is an issue of personal development. We have to start by being honest about who we are before we can focus on who we want to become.
As I thought about the applicability of this topic to my diverse readership, I realized that it really applies to everyone. Saying a social issue doesn’t impact me if it’s not about my particular group is like finding out I have liver cancer and saying, “That’s the liver’s problem.” It’s impacting me whether I acknowledge it or not. We are all part of the body of humanity.
Albeit poorly, I attempt to follow the example of Jesus. That puts me in a certain group. Some people who claim membership in that same group hold positions that I vehemently disagree with. While I don’t want to be lumped in with them, I recognize the necessity and importance of my group being critiqued for its shortcomings, both from within and without, as uncomfortable as that might be for me. It’s also worth mentioning that while Jesus was kind, gentle, and loving, He was also fiercely confrontational in challenging injustice and hypocrisy, especially among religious leaders and systems.
So I’m about to critique a group. I hope that you’ll clearly hear what I AM saying and, just as importantly, what I’m NOT saying. Here we go.
Police officers willingly sign up to do things I would never want to do. They risk their lives and see the worst of humanity on a daily basis. They have my deep respect, admiration, and gratitude.
I have friends who are police officers. One told me how terrifying it was to run into the darkness toward gunfire. Another shared that he became an officer to help people but feels like all he does is put proverbial Band-Aids on society’s bullet holes. I honor anyone who dons the uniform and believe the large majority of them are good, sincere people who make the world a better, safer place.
That said, for a minority of America’s police force, all lives are not created equal. People with black or brown skin are routinely treated with far less dignity than people with white skin. I used to persuade myself that it was just a few bad apples, but I haven’t been able to accept that lie for a long time now. The repeated killing of unarmed black people by police, and the justice system’s failure to convict the vast majority of those cases, both reveal deep structural and cultural failings in our country.
The killing of George Floyd, a black man under suspicion of forgery, by a white police officer has released an explosion of rage and protests around the world. As I watched the video, my horror was not just that the officer pressed his knee into George’s neck for almost nine minutes as George lay on the ground, subdued and passive, pleading for his life. It wasn’t just that he repeatedly said he couldn’t breathe while calling the officer “sir.” It wasn’t even that bystanders were begging the officer to stop, saying he was killing George.
My true horror came from the calm, detached look on the officer’s face, appearing oblivious to the pleas of the crowd and the weeping of the man under his knee. It came from the three other officers who, by all appearances, did nothing to stop their peer from killing a man as he begged for his life. It came from the fact that they did this in broad daylight, in front of a crowd, with video cameras rolling, as if they believed that nothing would happen to them. That it simply didn’t matter. That George didn’t matter.
I have a good friend who works at a major bank. He is a talented musician who plays faithfully at his church. A loving father and husband. A regular blood donor. He’s generous, smart, and funny. And he doesn’t feel safe taking a stroll in his upper-middle class neighborhood because he’s black.
Some of his white neighbors recently posted on their community’s message board that they are patrolling the streets “locked and loaded” looking for thugs and looters. My friend doesn’t use his own sidewalk because he knows from long experience that people see him not for who he is but for who they fear him to be – a criminal.
Some have made the argument that the Black Lives Matter movement is faulty because all lives matter. I believe this is a misunderstanding of the message. As I heard a black commentator recently explain, the point of Black Lives Matter is not that black people matter more, but that they matter as much. They simply want the same rights, respect, and treatment as white people. Shouldn’t that be the goal? To live in a society that values all of its citizens equally?
Jane Elliott, a white school teacher and anti-racism educator, stood before a largely white audience in a packed auditorium. She asked for any white person who would be happy to be treated like our society generally treats our black citizens to please stand. Unsurprisingly, no one stood. She said this plainly reveals that “you know what’s happening, you know you don’t want it for you. I want to know why you’re so willing to accept it or to allow it to happen for others?”
As a privileged, white, straight, cisgender male, I’ve never had to face any significant marginalization or oppression. I don’t claim to speak for people of color or their experience. I only seek to stand beside them. For change. For justice. For respect. For dignity. For equality.
If you share my feelings, what can you do? Addressing a huge, systemic injustice issue feels like trying to hold back the ocean with a single brick. You can’t. But you can add your brick to the wall. And a strong enough wall can hold back a raging sea.
So thank police officers who faithfully live out their oath to protect and serve, but also raise your voice when you see injustice. Stand in solidarity with people of color. When they tell you that racism is still a huge problem in America, believe them. Contact your local and state representatives expressing your support for police and judicial reform (here’s a guide, then simply search “how to contact my mayor / governor / representative / senator…”). Donate to organizations that fight for racial justice like the Equal Justice Initiative (EJI). Step back from any unquestioned political party allegiance you may have, and vote for those who back policies supporting equality, inclusion, justice, accountability, truth, love, and compassion. If you do, you’ll help heal our society and take another step toward Becoming Yourself.
