Wednesday, August 13, 2014

America's Son

File this one under "Our Workplaces Do Not Exist in a Vacuum."

One foggy evening, I'm leaving a West End meeting with a client and in the darkness at a stop light, a hooded figure — a black guy — starts running towards my car. I glance at my doors — and he winds up running past me because he's trying to catch the bus on the other side of my car. 

Does this make me racist?

A black mom advises her two teenaged sons not to wear hoodies, nor to walk around with their hands in their pockets. 

Post-Trayvon, does this make her over-reactive? 

Post-Trayvon, journalist Charles Blow recalled telling his sons to watch how they run, because a black man in motion usually makes people nervous and suspicious — not what is he running to (like a bus), but what is he running from (like a crime)? 

I've been in a handful of race relations workshops, at least one of which turned emotionally violent because the issues quickly polarized. One observer, a Canadian mayor from a city of at least 14 ethnic groups, shook his head and asked me, 


Michael Brown at age 16:
He wanted to attend college and
one day run his own business
"Is it only about black and white here in America?" 

Is my adopted hometown of Atlanta — this city symbolized by a phoenix rising out of the ashes — is this a city "too busy to hate," or just busy enough to sidestep a crucial conversation that's never been properly discussed, not anywhere in this nation, but especially not in places like Ferguson, MO? 

Is Mrs. Brown just another grieving low-income black mother (one of those social elements identified as "tearing apart the fabric of society"), or is she my neighbor, another mother who struggled to keep her child in school? If we buy into the notion that the fabric of our society is supposedly being torn apart by black men without work ethic, or black women bearing children without husbands, does it then make it okay to shrug off Michael Brown's death (or the death of any other youth from those presumed circumstances)? 

By criminalizing and dehumanizing both the youth and his circumstances, are we who are not black thus morally absolved of what happened last Saturday in Ferguson? 

Or is the hifalutin sacred fabric of our society even more threatened by what happened — because America's sons can die so violently in their hometowns, their bodies left on our streets for hours, while authorities scramble to understand how such things could've erupted in the first place?

Is the death of Michael Brown a social justice problem for just the black community, or is this one that belongs to all of us? 

I'm not asking you to give an answer. Just trying to round up the questions.


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