What have we (not) done?
- Mundane to Insane

- Jun 5, 2020
- 6 min read
Along with so many others, my heart is broken... yet again!
George Floyd was murdered by police in Maryland on May 25th. He was among 88 black and 341 other Americans who have been victims of law enforcement violence so far in 2020. Far too many people to be killed by those agents who are supposed to be upholding the peace and safety of the United States. What in the world is going on? What have Americans allowed to happen? What have we NOT done?
Over the past two weeks, innumerable institutions, agencies, businesses, social media sites, and individuals have published statements in support of #BlackLivesMatter -- or perhaps, they are against police brutality of any kind. During the past two days, in my own small, rural town alone more than five entities expressed their support, and several more before them. One restaurant owner actually removed customers from his facility for showing disrespect for staff and loudly expressing anti-black commentary. Is it enough to publicly verbalize expressions of support or denunciations of unacceptable behavior?
According to Statista Research Department (https://www.statista.com/statistics/585152/people-shot-to-death-by-us-police-by-race/#statisticContainer), as of June 4th in the United States, there have been 3,416 people shot to death by police since January 1, 2017. Of those, 1,398 were white, 755 were black, 542 were Hispanic, and 721 were other races or unknown. It would seem from the statistics in this report that nearly twice as many white people were killed than black people. Bear in mind, however, that the U.S. Census Bureau in 2019 reported that more than 60% of the population was white, over 13% was black, about 18% was Hispanic, 7% were other races alone, and over 2% of the population was of mixed race. ( https://www.census.gov/quickfacts/fact/table/US/PST045219)
Without getting too much further into the weeds, based on that 2019 census data, about 197 million Americans were white and 44 million Americans were black out of a total population reported to be 328,239,523. Factor this out, and the statistics point to the fact that nearly 2.5 times more black people have been killed by police than white people. WHY???
In a New York Times Opinion on June 4, 2020, by Kihana Miraya Ross, a professor of African-American studies, concludes with the following summation
"So let’s stop saying racism killed George Floyd, or worse yet, that a racist police officer killed
George Floyd. George Floyd was killed because anti-blackness is endemic to, and is central to how
all of us make sense of the social, economic, historical and cultural dimensions of human life."
I've asked myself over and over throughout my life what can be done about the inhumanity of man. War? Violent shooting? Television shows that capitalize on crime and violence toward others? Yet, I take issue with Dr. Ross's implication that "all" of us see these aspects of human life through an anti-blackness lens. I propose, instead, that anti-different is the issue. We are all human, but each individual is unique. Most humans have no idea why some humans are so horrible and what to do about their unexplainable behavior. We go on about our daily lives thinking, believing, hoping that the problem will be solved by someone else who can answer the whys, whats, and hows about inhumanity.
There is good reason for people to be in an uproar over the increasing lack of respect for individuals in the United States, and not just for those persons who are black. Since Mr. Floyd was murdered, there has been a huge multiracial response without socioeconomic limitations to the incongruent number of black people killed by police. The vast majority of protests have been peaceful, but there have been a small number of protesters in several cities across the United States who turned to violent means of expressing themselves. The film footage (nowadays called "video feed") of the looting and burning in so many parts of this sad country during the past many days took me back more than 50 years as I recalled watching live television coverage of the 1967 riots in Detroit. Our family lived in the suburbs, about 15 miles from the center of the city, but the rioting approached to within eight miles of our home. Even though I wasn't yet 13 years old that summer, our parents took all of us - my four younger sisters and my younger brother - into the city during the first week of August to deliver food, clothes, and bedding that had been collected at our Catholic church to another church located in the midst of the area where the rioting had occurred, where members of that downtown congregation were going to coordinate delivery of the donated goods to those in need. I remember the horror I felt... the way my stomach felt hollowed out, how my chest hurt, how my arms and legs felt cold. I was ashamed to be a white person then, and I am just as ashamed now.
Yes... I came from suburban, middle-to-upper class America. My own kids grew up in a similar demographic, and their children are following that same path. People like us across all three generations have knowledge of a small facet of that ill-defined state of being called diversity. But for the most part, the people who were "different" from us were also part of middle-to-upper class America: not-white people who were/are privileged like we were/are, for whatever reason. They were not-white people who had/have "made it." But what does it really mean to have "made it," both for the not-white people we have known/know and for us, as well? Did the not-white people simply make it to the point where they were more like white people? Not every white person in America is part of the middle-to-upper class. How do white people make it? Opportunities are certainly more broadly available to white people, enabling them to climb the ladders of financial stability and societal acceptance. Yet some non-white people have climbed those ladders, too.
Legal, educational, business, financial, political, and other institutions are being criticized for their lack of commitment to diversity. How is diversity defined? Is it just being different? Is it demonstrating the presence of variety? How does one "practice" diversity? Simply being aware of differences or variety is not an actual practice. In actuality, diversity and individualism are very closely related. One cannot recognize individuality without first understanding the uniqueness of each individual. Not one person on Earth is the same as another, yet every person takes a second look, raises an eyebrow, or moves a step back whenever differences are encountered.
Black Lives Matter is a movement and a foundation that seeks to "eradicate white supremacy and build local power to intervene in violence inflicted on Black communities by the state and vigilantes." https://blacklivesmatter.com/about/ The lives of Black people certainly do matter, but all lives matter. We, as a society, are narcissistic. We are insular -- islands unto ourselves -- insulating our own lives from those of others to protect ourselves, those important to us, and what is ours. I have been disconcerted by the recent focus on Black Lives, largely because I see many other lives being disrespected in this country: those of children in schools being shot with automatic weapons...those of migrants, brought here by American companies who didn't want to pay the wages demanded by American workers...those of the physically disabled who others shame for not being able to work and who are mocked by some ?leaders?...those with different perceptions of their sexual and gender identity...and -- lest we forget!!! -- women in general.
A friend posted a picture on Facebook from her friend's reposting on Instagram of a little girl holding a sign during a recent peaceful protest. I include that photo here, minus most of the child to protect her identity.

This poster publicly states my own beliefs, but I also believe that other lives in the United States are in danger. Not just physically from law enforcement, but also from people and factors that don't allow them to feel that they are part of the whole.
I have been inclusive of those different from me for my whole life, but I have never really been public about it. I have always quietly upheld the rights of personal choice for each and every person. Right now, with the emphasis on the horrific trials of black persons, I strongly support the profound changes needed to effect lasting improvement in their lives. Not enough, I know. I suspect, as I suggested earlier in this essay, that many Americans are like me.



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