Is That What I Am To You?
I told myself I wasn’t going to watch the Derek Chauvin trail before it started. It was a preemptive decision prompted by self care.
Even with that intent, it is futile to deny that we live in a reality, where screens are a ubiquitous part of our lives and our current station, public health wise, denotes that there are often days, we bear witness to screens disseminating programing often packaged as news, more then we see actual human faces.
Despite my best efforts, which included drastically reducing my news intake, for the bothsideism and profit aspects of its ecosystem demand the obvious be questioned and the questioning be omnipresent, I still would run into harrowing reminders of the trial and George Floyd’s murder.
The reminders were often followed by inescapable headlines. If one chooses say any leading newspaper in search of edification on another topic, they were and are sure to be greeted by doled out reports of defense explanations and tactics that invoke feelings of a classic Marvin Gaye refrain.
What I failed to admit to myself while setting out on my endeavour was, in this horror movie, there are countless monsters.
The great state of Texas continues to carry on its tradition of murdering Black people in custody over minor violations. Essentially ending Marvin D. Scott III life over marijuana. A common “justification” of murder by the hands of the state until very recently.
Kimberly Potter decided to utilize an air freshener to harass Daunte Wright and ended up killing him in the process. Wright, who is so similar in age and image to a very close family member of mine, typing this paragraph was like benching my own weight.
Most recently body cam footage of Chicago PD’s murder of an unarmed 13 year old boy was finally released after the requisite police delay, disrespect and deployment of lies. Once again a reminder that when it comes to morals, police often have lower standards than Scarface, in regards to humans of Black & Brown hues.
With those state killings as a backdrop, I recently met a longtime time White friend for drinks. During the discussion about a possible job opportunity he felt he was doing me a favour by stating: “I gotta warn you Damien, I thought you were an angry Black man, but this guy takes the cake.” Reflexively I exclaimed a “Wooooooowwwwww” as I tried to calibrate myself.
An individual who I look at as a brother, whom I’ve known for decades, sees me as an angry Black man in a line of angry Black men.
One of the skills sets of that racist trope is that it sees validation within itself when people react to it in anger. Scarface told y’all they smart. So sensing myself in a emonial trap, I attempted to explain I wasn’t livid at the statement, trying to fight though a haze of varying emotions determined to convey you shouldn’t say that shit.
I’ve never had a good poker face, so my expression did the converying for me by default, which elicited unsolicited apologies, but the damage was done. And the justifications and presenting of personal ethnic stereotyping as a peace offering were misthrown wrenches that failed to stop the gears of my brain.
I spoke my piece and kept it peaceful and tried to move on, but as the days passed, the incident become more vexing to me. It was a “Here’s what they think about you.” moment, I never thought would occur. It was compounded by my stance that I’m literally tired of explaining and teaching people pro bono. Part of that exasperation stems from the reality that, if you’ve been Black adjacent with me and others for multiple eras and you still feel this way, what’s the point?
Why recite James Baldwin’s perpetually relevant statement that:
When years of acquaintance hadn’t even allowed the basics to permeate through?
The prior presidential era agnonazlgy taught and or reminded Black folks that, seeking comfort from White people, is often like laying on a bed of rocks, when your back hurts. That reality was recently touched upon by Shannon Sharpe who as usual let his feelings be known.
But hey, what do we have to be aggrieved about? It’s not like we live in a nation where a Black woman who was fired from here job, for trying to prevent a colleague from choking a citizen, was fired and had to fight for 15 years to receive her pension.
Some of you will read this this and view it as therapeutic writing. Others will view it as a personal assessment of the current times. Many will just rationalize it as more rantings from another angry Black man.
