I will admit that when the Black Lives Matter movement started, I was one of the people saying, "No, All Lives Matter. I don't like what is happening, but saying, Black Lives Matter, is just taking things too far." But then more and more African American people were being killed at the hands of authority figures, and the authority figures were not getting the proper punishment when it was deserved.
I started to reflect on my own experiences growing up, and I realized that I completely understand why Black Lives Matter started and I completely agree with it. My father is black and my mother is white, so my older brother and I are both mixed. We have experienced many subtle things throughout our lives that some people brush off or may not even notice. However, these things have greatly impacted our lives and our outlook on the world. When we were young kids, at school and at daycare, the kids would see our parents pick and ask if we were adopted because "there is no way a black man and a white woman can have kids." We were called brownies because we had darker skin than most of the other children, Oreo's because we "looked black, but acted white," and the list could go on.
As we grew up, other things started happening. I have gone shopping with my mom and have had people stare at us, to the point where we feel uncomfortable.
One time, I was at a nail salon with my mom, grandma and aunt, all of whom are white. The nail technician looked at me and she asked who I was to the rest of them and I said they’re my mom, grandma, and aunt, and the lady gave me the weirdest look and told me that I didn’t match.
In high school, I worked at Winn-Dixie and I continued to work there when I was at home on breaks during my first two years of college. I would notice that customers ask my white co-workers what school they go to, whereas they ask me if I am in school or they tell me to stay in school because I wouldn’t want to work (at Winn-Dixie) for the rest of my life.
When I go into a nice store, I notice the salespeople keeping an extra close eye on me, asking me if I need any help more frequently than they ask other people who have a different skin color. Some people would say that it's just good customer service, but I can't help but think in the back of my mind that they keep an extra eye on me because they are racially profiling me.
Girls have told my brother that they can’t date him because they could never bring a black boy home to their parents. After being pulled over for speeding, my brother was asked, “Where’s the weed?” when nothing has ever been smoked in his car to give causation for that question to be asked. Someone has spoken of him saying, “That n***** doesn’t deserve a white girl.” He has been called a thug because of his tattoos (half a sleeve on his right upper arm that a regular T-shirt mostly covers) even though he has graduated from college, and is currently in a masters program for accounting.
On multiple occasions, when I told people that my parents have been divorced, I have been asked, “Oh, is your dad still in the picture?”
While those experiences may not seem extreme, I know that there are other people who have gone through much worse, but none of us should have to go through any of it! When I hear in the news that another black man has been killed by a police officer, my heart breaks. Then I panic a little knowing that my brother could easily be in that situation. His friends could easily be in that situation. Maybe I could even easily be in that situation. It’s scary to think about. When people say, “Black lives matter,” they aren’t saying any other life doesn’t matter, they mean, “Black lives matter, too!” And it is not mutually exclusive. My heart also breaks when I see the news stories about police officers being killed, knowing they did not make it home to their families, that someone took their lives. The people who took their lives are held responsible for their actions and so far, the cops who have done something wrong have not been held responsible for their actions. Everything that has been happening just makes me so sad.
What makes me even sadder is that the people I used to be close to, used to be good friends with, people that I am still friends with, say things that I would have never expected. Everyone is entitled to his or her own opinion, and I understand that someone’s life experiences are going to dictate what opinions they have. But hopefully, after hearing a little of what I went through, you can understand why people feel so strongly about the BLM movement. Do some research; hear other people’s stories. Before you shoot down everyone who is for the (non-violent) BLM movement, please at least try and understand why so many people feel strongly about it.
