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I debated if I wanted to do a post on this horrifying case of police brutality and murder against Sonya Massey. It seems no lessons were learned from the many police brutality cases that have come before her and many lessons will not be learned from this.
Still, as a Black woman living in America, this cases rings too close to home. How many times have I called the police for help? How many times have the police showed up unannounced? I might get lucky and have good cop show up. And I might get unlucky and get unalived.
I watched the video and maybe I shouldn’t have. Mentally, I’m doing okay. Unlike four years ago when I had many a fake friend not say anything at all about George Floyd, I’m not surprise to see the friends leftover also not say anything.
So, naturally, when you hang out with newer Mom friends, who are a bit more liberal, you’re not surprised when they also don’t say anything.
One thing I’ve learned in my years on earth is that white women, no matter how different they are on the socio-economic level or political stance, tend to have the same feelings towards Black issues and that is silence. I’ve begged. I’ve hoped. I’ve prayed. And I’ve found silence.
I’m finding silence now.
Do I think my friends mean any harm? No. Do I think they don’t care? Not sure. Do I think they don’t care about me, especially in this hotly-contested political climate now? Again, not sure. But it’s painful to see them to be so silent during a time where I could really hear their voices.
I’m used to it. I am used to the silence. I’m used to being the only Black friend to a lot of them. I’m used to their comments they feel aren’t racist but they really are. I’m used to them being absolutely aloof on everything Black despite having biracial children. I’m used to them speaking up for Women’s Rights, LGBTQ+ rights, but are absolutely silent on Black rights.
I’m used to all of it.
Is it disappointing? Of course. Do I need new friends? Maybe. But am I going to demand and expect more? No. I refuse to be that racially sensitive teacher that so many are expecting. Life is not a constant Very Special Episode Where White People are Taught Racism by a Black Person. Google is free.
Instead of being frustrated, I look toward how I can help other Black women and strengthen my community. Why should I care if all of the Beckys, Karens, and Susans (and a few Gertrudes) won’t say anything when I can help women who look like me? That makes a more significant impact than any pretend friend.
I can only hope the next time another instance of police brutality happens (because it will), they won’t be so silent.
