When I first heard this statement, I didn’t put much thought into it. The statement is a line in a song from the award-winning musical Hamilton. As I’ve been enjoying the soundtrack from this musical I’ve been mulling over this statement as it pertains to my life. I’ve always lived my life with integrity and honesty. This was not to impress anyone or get asspats. It is a personal code of ethics. My reputation is important to me. Knowing that I told the truth and spoke up, even when no one wanted to hear it, is what helps me sleep at night.
Before George Floyd, before all the countless Black Americans who have been legally murdered before ever getting their day in court, before the rest of America finally started paying attention, we had Trayvon Martin. Many familial lines were drawn in the sand during and after the trial. The outrage and hurt over his murder and all the subsequent events that happened thereafter are still a glaring issue in this country. And then Tamir Rice happened. Our children are not safe! They are not safe to be children and grow up in a society that alleges we all have “equal opportunities”. Our children are innocent! You are innocent until proven guilty. I cannot tell you the countless stories I’ve read of white people literally attacking police, and making it out alive. Whenever a Black person is murdered by police the next question is always, “But what did they do? What’s the whole story?” There doesn’t need to be a whole story! You cannot execute someone before they are tried! Period. Police are meant to serve and protect. They are NOT judge, jury, and executioner.
I was active online in a couple babywearing and breastfeeding groups. Online discussions tend to give people who would normally stay quiet, a platform to express their ideals and beliefs. Any mention of Black Lives Matter (BLM) was usually met with huge opposition. Any discussion that required someone to think about some else as an actual person was met with violent conversation that often trickled into real life. This even in local groups were people knew me and others like me face to face. I remember a discussion that was calm on my end, but appeared to be heated on the other end of the discussion (note: you cannot read tone). This woman was so angry she came back with, “You’re just talking big because you’re on the internet, but you would never say this to my face.” I invited her to meet me for coffee, on my dime, to further our discussion. I stressed that the way I carry myself online is the same way I carry myself in real life. I don’t have the mental capacity to remember a fake persona. She never took me up on my offer. This discussion stuck with me for a long time.
“History has its eyes on you. Who lives? Who dies? Who tells your story?”
I tell my story! I don’t want to be remembered as the “Black mother of 2 who was murdered by police while pulled over for not stopping an imaginary amount of time at a stop sign on a deserted road” (true story I was pulled over for this last month). I don’t want to be remembered as “Black mother of 2 who was murdered by police because another driver cut across three lanes of traffic requiring the mother to slam on the brakes to avoid a collision” (also a true story). I don’t want to be remembered as “just a mom” or “just a black person” or “just a wife” or “just xyz”.
I want to be remembered as the person who helped out struggling parents with being parents. The person who let you vent and cry with no judgment. The person who helped out NICU parents struggling with navigating the hospital system. The person who if they had it, they would give it, as long as it didn’t leave their children without. I want to be remembered for the person unafraid to say what needed to be said even when you didn’t want to hear it. The person who empowered other Black people to know their rights. ALL THEIR RIGHTS! The rights that we are born with and still constantly have to fight for. The right to be seen as a person.
At the end of my discussion I replied “I fight with you not because I care about you. I fight with you because you are raising the next generation of people. I don’t want my children, or the children of people who look like me, to have to continue this fight that my parents, grandparents, and countless others have had to endure.”
I want my kids to be able to be friends with someone, and not have to worry if their parents will comment “It smells like nigger in here” after they leave. I want my kids to be able to invite friends over to their house, and not later have that friend’s parents say they are not allowed back over because they “didn’t know it was a black house”. I want my kid to play Mary in the Nativity play if she wants to, and not be told she “can be a star because Mary wasn’t Black”. I want my children to be believed (the first time) if they should ever have a medical emergency. I want my children to be believed if they ever really do need police intervention. I don’t want them growing up afraid of the people who are supposed to “serve and protect” them. I don’t know if they missed the memo, but “serve and protect” ends with an unwritten “all people” not “only white people”.
If you’re reading this, now more than any other time, is the time to protect your Black friends. I’ve never held being white against anyone, but if you’re not using your white voice to speak up what are you doing? How else are you supporting your Black friends and family? The election is coming up. How are you supporting your friends of color to make sure their vote is counted?
“History has its eyes on you. Who lives? Who dies? Who tells YOUR story?”