The Defiance of Fatigue
I wish I could feel mad. I wish I had the energy to rage about the barrage of hate that has filled our screens for the past 48 hours. I wish I felt compelled to write a piece dedicated to the power of peace. But I don’t. If I’m honest, and I promised I would be, what I feel is tired.
As a white woman who spent much of her adult life in a relationship with a black man, I learned a long time ago that I will never innately understand what it means to be black. The few experiences I’ve had with reverse racism (someone is going to have to explain that term to me one day) have been fleeting and petty, not violent.
But eating with, dancing with, living with a black man does help you understand one thing — the exhaustion of constant vigilance.
I tend to deal with something I don’t understand by gathering information and talking to smart people. So, since Freddie Gray, Michael Brown, Tamir Rice, I’ve been reading and I’ve been listening. But I haven’t been talking, except for one “can’t keep quiet” episode at a friend’s house warming party that I’m still equally proud of and embarrassed by. And I haven’t been inviting discussion, rare for me, but subconsciously intentional with this issue. Maybe it’s because I don’t know anyone who can talk about this issue objectively. Maybe it’s because I’m not ready to talk about it myself.
I get what it looks like to watch someone you love walk a parallel path with fear. But I also get that the number of unarmed victims shot by police (1 in 5) is the same as the number of victims who shot at police first (1 in 5). I absolutely think in some areas of the country, black Americans are systematically targeted by their local police force. And maybe that explains why a cop is 18.5 times more likely to be killed by a black American than that same cop killing an unarmed black American. Maybe not.
Black lives do matter. Police officers’ lives do matter. Do we live in a world where racism exists and, at times, fatally fuels our decisions? Yes. Do we also live in a world where SNIPERS took aim and killed five police officers as part of a peaceful protest against the killing of two black Americans? Yes.
What I’m saying here is this is not a black and white issue. Pun intended.
So, what do you do with that? How should I, as a white American, whose beloved friend is a former cop and whose former lover is a black man, feel today? What should I do about it? And what do I hope to gain from it?
I honestly do not know.
I was planning to write about cleaning out my closet today. I’ve got pictures to prove how I cleared the crap. I evaluated all the stuff that I own and carefully selected what stays and what goes. I thought about my history with each piece and whether it fits who I am today or not. I was honest with myself about whether I needed this piece or that and whether it brought value to my life or just took up space. I thought about how I felt when I wore it, did it make me come alive or shrink in my skin. And I thought about what to add back, how to grow with quality and intention. Something I’m not sure I know how to do yet.
So, maybe this post is about clearing the crap after all. Maybe it is about shedding what we don’t need from the ugly of this situation and evaluating what we do need to grow and change. And maybe it’s allowing ourselves to be confused about what to do next without letting go of the certainty that there must be a “next”.
Stay safe, my friends…ALL of my friends.
