I'm mentally, physically and sort of psychologically drained.
Because of Ferguson.
Because of Staten Island.
Because of Sanford.
Because of Fruitvale Station.
Because of Bensonhurst.
I've been in this state for awhile.
I turned on my headphones to listen to some songs I go to for peace. Songs by Kirk Franklin, Donnie McClurkin, Alanis Morisette, Shania Twain, Yolanda Adams, Whitney Houston, Notorious B.I.G., Nancy Wilson. I start silently belting out one of the songs which makes me sit up a bit and probably sway ever so slightly. I'm aware of the white gentleman sitting next to me that begrudgingly got up to let me to my window seat, who grunted when I said "Hello, how are you?"
He's avoided any humanly possible contact with me this entire flight. It's ok, I get it. He's not listening. That's why I want to yell...to get his attention, to wake him up. To remind him I'm allowed to sit here, right next to him...with the same benefits afforded all people sitting in first class.
I really want to ask him if he's been watching the coverage of the situation in Ferguson, Missouri and the killing of Michael Brown. If he has a son? If his teenage son ever shoplifted from a store in their town? Did the shop owner call him, his Dad, to come get him? Or the police? I want him to know Michael Brown's life meant something to a whole lot of people, including me. So did the lives of Eric Garner, Trayvon Martin, Jordan Davis, Oscar Grant, Yusef Hawkins and countless others.
I do believe that one encounter, one conversation, one mindset change, starts the process. That process is the process of changing the degree to which institutionalized racism and hate-crime economics affects the mindset of mainstream Americans and allows them to believe the negative perceptions and stereotypes that have become a cultural burden for African-Americans and especially...black men.
That one conversation may get a white person to take a second view of black suffering, heck for some...a first view. That conversation could very well be the first time a white person has a candid conversation about race with a black person and vice versa. I don't mind being the one to start that process.
Imagine if every white person at some point in their career or job had to have an African-American boss? Imagine if the richest private school in America had an African-American male headmaster that determined the fate of a 95% white student population? And he too controlled the institutions finances? Imagine if there was an African-American President of the United States who could govern and lead without constant objections from those that battle him based merely on the the fact that he exists? Imagine that.
Stop yelling Mo! No thanks, I'll keep yelling until images of dead black boys stop flashing across my television day after day, week after week.
Stop yelling Mo! No thanks, I'll stop yelling when police departments made up of officers that do not reflect, care or concern themselves with the citizens they are to serve...start taking measures to diversify their population, train officers and change their inherent bias attitudes.
Stop yelling Mo! No thanks, I'll stop yelling when the laws of this country are made for all and enforced equally.
Stop yelling Mo! No thanks, I'll stop yelling when respect for black life equals the same respect given to white life.
SO, STOP TELLING ME TO STOP YELLING...JUST BECAUSE YOU ARE NOT LISTENING!
Disclaimer:
1. This does not apply to all white people.
2. Black people have to take personal responsibility for themselves.
3. Black on black crime exist, so does white on black crime.
4. This article is not really about yelling, it's just a term.
5. Yelling is relative to who's listening.
6. I've never talked softly.
7. I saw the looting, that's not the issue.
