I’ve been meaning to blog for several days, now, and each day my reason for blogging changes . . . and escalates. I’ll need to do this in chapters, and start with what’s bugging me the most. I don’t know how many chapters there will be. I’m going to surprise myself.
Let’s start with the shooting of Jacob Blake. It was deplorable, right? And before anyone chimes in to call him an “alleged” shooter, please don’t. We all saw it, which means that there are no allegations in this situation. Only facts. Jacob Blake was BRUTALLY SHOT BY RUSTEN SHESKEY SEVEN TIMES, and the shooter should be charged with attempted murder. Get comfortable with the label, just as Black people have grown accustomed to police shootings. Just because.
Scrolling through my social media feeds earlier this afternoon, I saw a story about Brian Urlacher, the meathead hairplug-having football player (who has a Black son), who is standing up for the little murderous psychopath whose deranged mother drove him to the protest with an illegal weapon so that he could openly kill and shoot protesters in Kenosha. Again, no allegations here. ABSOLUTE FACTS.
There were comments, and an idiot chimed in with a “Blue Lives Matter” sentiment. Okay . . . you know what? Let’s get something straight. Blue Lives Matter is NOT a thing. Okay? It doesn’t exist.
I’m sorry . . . what’s that, Karen? You don’t get it? Well . . . let me drill it into your head.
My birth certificate states that I was born a Black female child. Even before I knew the difference between people or understood the depths of the gutter of inequality that existed between myself and others. I had several talks by my parents starting when I was a tiny child and was made to understand that there were things I couldn’t do, and places I couldn’t go – especially nestled in the racist neighborhoods of Beverly and Mt. Greenwood on the south side of Chicago, where I attended private school with white students who paid the same tuition, but with more freedom and the privilege of peace. I had to be twice as good to get half as much.
At the end of the day, I and my Blackness go to sleep together, wake up together, and take the good and the bad of life . . . together. I couldn’t escape it if I wanted to. And for the record, I don’t want to, because I believe that being Black is an amazing way of life. We’re colorful with creativity and complicated and storied histories. Our ancestors have strength and fortitude and have passed along the concepts of humor, great food, and spices. (Ah, blessed spices!) We have beautiful skin that remains majestic against time and weather conditions. Most clever things originate with us, and we have natural elements of beauty that other races pay dearly to replicate. We are amazing. If only we could get people to stop condemning us, murdering us, and loving everything about us . . . except us.
People like to combat Black Lives Matter by saying that Blue Lives Matter, which is nothing short of an insult. See . . . people choose to be police officers. Cops are made, not born. They attend the police academy and earn their blue suits. They can also take those suits off at the end of the day or retire their uniforms should they so choose. Sure, people should have pride in what they do for a living, but when off-duty police officers go to the grocery store, or out with friends, or anywhere, they’re just people. There’s no real culture around the blue, unless you count keeping mum while your corrupt co-workers steal, kill and serve themselves rather than society.
Police officers can matriculate stealthily in crowds without being detected. And, guess what? There are several bad police officers, just as there are bad doctors, lawyers, and nurses. It’s a profession, Karen and Chad. And if you’ve taken it that seriously and turned it into a way of life, I would suggest re-examining your choices. Because, were I you, I wouldn’t align with the deep culture of corruption that resides in the police force. And sure . . . there are a lot of good cops. But, dirty cops? They’re like malignant cancer cells that metastasize until they cripple the entire entity. (And if you choose to continue in your profession as a police officer who actually protects and serves as outlined by the job description, do yourself and the rest of us a favor and stand up against your criminalistic cohorts. They’re giving you a bad name. But I digress . . . )
The bottom line here is that you cannot compare Black life to your profession, or your father’s profession, or your husband’s. When you stand firm and say things like “blue lives matter” or “we back the blue,” what you’re really saying is that you stand behind even the very worst police officer — the one who is an embarrassment to the police organization. You’re saying that you condone the murders of the innocent and the mentally incapacitated. You’re saying that you are perfectly fine with the actions of the cops who have raped young women in their custody. You stand firm with people who are SO power-hungry and depraved that they operate on a platform of taking advantage of citizens, rather than upholding the law.
It’s fine, though, because I like to know who I’m dealing with.
Again, the unfollow button is somewhere . . .