Tuesday, November 25, 2014

On Ferguson and White Privilege

"Imagine all the people...living life in peace...you may say I'm a dreamer...but I'm not the only one..."

John Lennon's words have been going through my head a lot since last night's disappointing, but not unexpected, announcement in the Michael Brown grand jury case. Six hours after the jury had announced that it had a decision, the prosecutor finally read the decision we all, really, knew was coming--Darren Wilson was not to be indicted for the murder of Michael Brown.

Not surprisingly, the emotions flared. And rightfully so. There are so many injustices still perpetrated on people of color in this country, and so many white people who refuse to see it.

"Racism is over!" they shout, as the Missouri KKK announces one of its largest increases in membership since President Obama's election, and promises to "take care of the terrorists" in Ferguson.

"I don't see color; I only see people!" they insist, as they use phrases like "thugs" and "terrorists" and "those people" to describe the protestors.

Langston Hughes once asked:
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun?
Does it fester like a sore, and then run? 
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or does it crust and sugar over, like a syrupy sweet? 
Does it sag, like a heavy load?

Or does it explode? 

For too long, we've been telling the minority communities in this country that every thing is equal now, as they watch median incomes plummet, schools in their neighborhoods close, their young men and boys disproportionately sent to prison for crimes that whites are given probation for. Their dreams, promised to them by this country, have been deferred for too long. What we are seeing right now is the explosion. As I type this, there are protests in 37 states, as well as one at the U. S. embassy in London. People from all walks of life, all skin colors, are joining together to say

ENOUGH.

We're seeing a change coming. It won't happen over night, but change never does. But hopefully, this will be the start of something substantial. 

But. 

But. 

Those same white people I mentioned above? They're also saying, "stop protesting." "Justice has been done, what more do you want?" "The law was followed, there's nothing more to do." "What do these people want, more handouts?" 

And on, and on, and on. 

They refuse to see that they live a different life than the people directly affected by situations like Mike Brown or Trayvon Martin. Their white children will never have to worry about being stalked by police officers as they play basketball in the park, or drive around in their cars. They don't have to teach their sons to move slowly when they are around officers, to not make any sudden moves, so as not to appear threatening. Their white children can be pulled over by police officers and not have guns drawn immediately. People don't cross the street when they see a group of white boys walking down the sidewalk, or lock their car doors. 

We don't know what it's like. 

White privilege allowed a lot of us to go to bed last night knowing that what happened in Ferguson was a tragedy, yet also knowing that in a lot of ways it would never touch our lives. It allows us a level of security and power that others will never know, bestowed upon us simply because of the color of our skin. 

White privilege has nothing to do with how hard you've worked in your life. It has nothing to do with advantages you have or haven't been born with economically. It's the skin you're walking around in. The skin that allows you to distance yourself so easily from Trayvon's parents and Michael's parents. That makes it easy to say "trouble maker" or "thug" instead of child. That allows you to dismiss so much because, well, it isn't you. 

And yes, I know you have friends who are people of color. You may even have family members. Here's an idea. Talk to them. Ask them what life is really like for them. For some, yes, they may be lucky and not experience the injustice. But you may be surprised what you find out. 

The bottom line is, the fight that Dr. King and Malcolm X and all of the other leaders of the Civil Rights Movement began in the 1950s and 1960s is still continuing. We should be well on our way to the time when the protests that are happening now are not needed. Until then, all of us need to keep fighting. Because we are truly not living up to our ideals as a nation otherwise.