Dear Friend,
Over the past two years, I’ve stumbled across a number of posts from you that have given me a lot to think about – especially when it comes to race. I’ve grown accustomed to the fact that whenever I see a post about race or police brutality from you, I’ll need to take a breath and put my phone away. I’ve grown accustomed to the fact that when your friends praise you for your “courageous” and “informed” views, I’ll need to back away from the keyboard before I engage in one of those long-winded Facebook arguments that I often ignore. Yet as time rolls on and your rhetoric boils over into my feed, I’ve come to accept that the time for listening to your opinion has passed and it is now time that you hear me.
To the friend who tells me, “Some of you people cause so much unnecessary drama. It's always turned into some type of racial thing. It doesn’t matter if you're white, African, Mexican, Asian, or whatever.”
You’re right, race shouldn’t matter – but it does. The first time I heard the N-word, I was a child and my classmates were curious about the origin of the word “negro”. I sat awkwardly in my seat as the word Negro and its other variants were thrown around me. I averted my eyes as the children and adults around gazed upon me – the token black girl in the room. The second time I heard the N-word, was in a story my younger brother recounted me about what his schoolyard bully had called him that day. Since then, I’ve seen the N-word hidden even amongst the most seemingly inane comments. I’ve heard the N-word escape the lips of my own family members and once close friends. I’ve seen it caged behind teeth of white “allies”, lashing against lips “progressives”, and keening in throats begging for release from social justice warriors and conservatives alike. My race impacts me every day – and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t matter.
We’re lying to ourselves when we say that race doesn’t matter. We’re lying to ourselves when we say we don’t see race – because, at the end of the day, I see your lack of melanin just as clearly as you see my black skin. And while the fact that you “don’t see color” may seem admirable to you, realize that I find great pride in my skin. It connects me to a cultural and diasporic identity that can only be inherited, not appropriated. So while I appreciate and empathize with your desire to live in a society that does not discriminate and oppress others on the basis of race, we can’t create that society by ignoring that discrimination and hoping it disappears on its own. Like a bad habit or affliction, we cannot begin to fix the problem unless we acknowledge the problem exists and condemn the actors who further perpetuate the issue.
So you’re right, it shouldn’t matter. I shouldn’t have to be afraid of the world I will bring my children into. I shouldn’t have to be afraid that my brother will be harassed or followed simply because of the color of his skin – but this is my reality. This is OUR reality – and you need to see it.
To the friend who tells me, “Why don’t they just listen to the officer? Just do what is asked of you. They will probably respect you if you respect them.”
I was seventeen walking the hallways of my high school helping the campus career center set up for career day when I had my first encounter with police harassment. Walking with posters and supplies in hand, I was walking towards the administrative office to meet up with my friends (who were also helping with the event) to grab the last of the supplies for the event. It was while I was walking towards the office that the campus security chose to stop me in my tracks to ask me where I was going and why I was not in class. In a more than respectful tone, I informed her that I had been excused from class to assist with the career day event. Normally, this would be enough for me to at least show my permission slip or hall pass to further prove I was being truthful – but on that day it was not. The security guard continued to question my honesty, integrity, and intentions even though I continuously tried to prove to her I was being nothing but honest. It wasn’t until my white-passing friend, who was helping with the event, came by to verify that I truly was excused that the security guard finally took a step back.
Like the brothers and sisters who have shared my tone, and darker shades, I’ve been told my whole life to respect the police. I’ve been raised in a society where my black brothers are taught to hold their hands up and put their heads down when the police arrive. I’ve been raised with stories of my black sisters being raped by men in blue and are then told to remain silent. Like my brothers and sisters, I am fluent in the language of “Yes, sir. No, sir.” To be raised with images of bloodied bodies, scraped faces, and powerful force, we are raised from young age to know one thing to be true of police: “respect” may be the only thing that keeps you safe. So please hear me when I say that though you may not see it – there is no shortage of terror-laced respect in the black community. Just as you ask me not to believe that all cops are bad, I need you to believe that just because we question the officer does not mean we are trying to disrespect the officer. I need you to accept that just because an officer has earned their title does not mean they are above question. I need you to recognize that it is because they are officers that we must be hypervigilant in analyzing the way we train, supervise, and even reprimand our police force.
I do grant that not all officers are “bad”. In fact, as someone who has spent the past year working in a police department and with police officers, I can attest to the fact that many officers, if not most, are genuine, kind-hearted people and officers. However, this does not mean that because there are “good cops” that police brutality is a non-issue. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. It is because we DO have good, genuine officers that we need to call out and condemn the behavior of those who do not respect their position and the people they are meant to protect. It is because we do have good, genuine officers that we should never shy from being an ally to the victim(s) and their community. It is because do have good, genuine officers that we need to do everything in our power to ensure that those who are not on that level are unable to abuse their power.
By condemning police brutality, you are not saying that police officers and their lives do not matter. It is not impossible to believe that #BlackLivesMatter and that #BlueLivesMatterToo – if anything, it’s encouraged! But what I can’t let you to continue to do, is tell me that because I believe #BlackLivesMatter, that I don’t care about the police – because it just isn’t true.
Just like you, I care deeply about the safety of our officers. Just like you, I care deeply about the lives of every human being – and that is why I care so deeply about police brutality, and so should you.
Sincerely,
Your Silent Facebook Friend
