White Privilege — Black Pain

“I can’t breathe.”

Another Black man died at the hands of police officers this week. Four officers were implicated and fired from the Minneapolis police force. The victim’s name is George Floyd, captured for forging checks.

The murder took place in broad daylight and committed with extreme privilege, carried through a 400-year history of oppression in America. Mr. Floyd begged for mercy like the Black men and women hung from trees, whipped, or forced to watch their wives get raped by privileged white men.

Standing By Racism

Bystanders watched Mr. Floyd take his last breath as systemic oppression continues to make all of Black America gasp with the images that will induce secondary trauma.

“I can’t breathe.”

The secondary trauma of the Black community will take place in silence as mothers get more stern in their warnings to their children. Yet, no parental advice can diffuse the ticking tomb bomb of systemic oppression and white supremacy. Black men and women will triple check to make sure they have their government-issued identification on them at all times, and the car registration is readily accessible.

The Black community will spend the next month trying to soothe one another’s soul. We have to create space for our anger, fear, and frustration. We have to make sure we create adequate community space to grieve so that we can go to work in spaces with people who look like murderers and likely know nothing about our pain.

“I can’t breathe.”

Sleeping Beauty of Privilege

There will be no conversation at the water cooler about Mr. Floyd. No colleague will express concern by asking if we are OK. There are no mental health days for community assault that reminds us that the constitution once deemed us 3/5 of a person, and still treats us as such.

Maybe this is a good time for white people to explain to each other that this is why Colin Kaepernick risked his career. Conversations could happen among white people to link privilege to power and vice versa.

Influencers could push for curriculum reform that represents the true history of the world and America. Epigenetisists could solidify the harms of slavery to support reparations. “Woke” journalists could fight to maintain the dignity of dead black bodies instead of parading them on social media as news. But, it’s just another day in white America.

“I can’t breathe.”

I could only hope that as Black America deals with its pain, that white America will challenge its privilege. Instead, I worry that many of the people expressing their right not to wear masks or be quarantined will argue that Mr. Floyd must have done something to provoke the officers’ behavior.

I have a 28-year-old son who walks most places. My husband is 6’4 and burly, and could easily be seen as a threat. We try to protect our family from vulnerability with dual Ph.Ds. But, we know no amount of education can make black skin safe to be in. We spend workdays in white environments pretending we are equal. Mr. Floyd’s murder by police officers reminds us we are not.

Usually, my articles are twice as long, but this is all my heart can say.

“I can’t breathe.”