State of Suspended Disbelief
Men do not cry. Men are strong. Men provide. They do not show their emotions easily. But today as I watch the continued destruction of Bill Cosby's public image, as I viewed Harvey Levin of TMZ remain resolute in labeling now deceased former DC mayor Marion Barry "Crackhead Mayor", as I see a Missouri grand jury fail to find it more probable than not that Officer Darren Wilson engaged in some type of wrongdoing resulting in the death of Michael Brown... I am left with only tears. I do not have the energy to debate, the fervor to protest, or the discontent to be angry. I want to feel the heavy weight in my heart, be sad, and admit that today has crushed me. I have been beaten senseless by the treatment of people like me in the media, in the legal system, and in society.
I spent my entire life doing what most kids do: trying their hardest to meet and/or exceed the standards and expectations of my parents. And for the most part I felt I was successful. I excelled in primary schools, went to an aesthetically pleasing and academically rigorous prestigious private predominantly white university. Not only did I do well there, but I made countless friends of different races and genders. I treated everyone as I wished to be treated, and from my personal experience, that same treatment was returned. I went onto law school (again prestigious and largely Caucasian), and again fared well. Soon after I managed to secure a job as a federal government attorney in a very dismal economy. Up until now I felt quite blessed, up until tonight I thought I was a fine example of the American Dream, and how stereotypes of what a black man is does not apply to every black man. Up until now I believed that this set me apart from the rest, this would allow me to be a leader, uplift my community, and I would receive the fair treatment that the friends I had collected along the way received. Today has convinced me that there is futility in the path that I have chosen.
Tomorrow night, after working eight and a half hours at my federal job, I go to my mid-scale Northern Virginia gym, and while walking out wearing sweats and a hoodie, and fishing my car keys out of my bookbag, I happen to match the description of a suspect in the area. A cop approaches me, gun drawn (because after all the suspect may be armed) and repeatedly yells for me to freeze and put my hands up. I attempt to ask why I am being arrested, and explain that I am withdrawing my hands from my bookbag, but naturally he cannot hear me over his own continued yells for my surrender so he opens fire. And in less than 60 seconds everything I was and am is boiled down to an unarmed black man who was shot by a cop who had reason to believe I was dangerous. My 30 years of life on this earth is summed up into a hashtag #justiceforKamal and a night interview with the cop who took my life.
I, of all my peers, had always retained faith in this country. I had faith because I treated Matt, Amber, Paul, Steve, Becky, Liz, Nicole, Mike, Gretta, Kyle, Katie, Doran, Preston, Chloe, and countless other non-black people with the love and respect that my parents raised me to show, and they truly treated me the same. They did not see a stereotype, a statistic, a figure in history that instills fear and pity at the same time. They saw me as they saw any man. I saw so many of my fair skin friends relate to me on a basic human level and while unable to empathize they did sympathize with me. They inspired hope that by the time my future children arrived, there would be no need for sympathy or empathy because we would all be equal in every sense of the word. The pity and fear that is borne at the sight of a black man would be a historical fact instead of a present state of mind. I no longer can believe that. For years I have watched a country turn against their President, which used to be considered treason; laws created to halt the immigration of one group while quietly allowing the influx of others; conservatives becoming extremists and liberals becoming fanatics. Things are not getting better, but in fact, are getting worse. And for a person like me who has always been uniquely attuned to the plight of others, my heart has become too heavy for me to bear...and all I could do is cry.
I spent my entire life doing what most kids do: trying their hardest to meet and/or exceed the standards and expectations of my parents. And for the most part I felt I was successful. I excelled in primary schools, went to an aesthetically pleasing and academically rigorous prestigious private predominantly white university. Not only did I do well there, but I made countless friends of different races and genders. I treated everyone as I wished to be treated, and from my personal experience, that same treatment was returned. I went onto law school (again prestigious and largely Caucasian), and again fared well. Soon after I managed to secure a job as a federal government attorney in a very dismal economy. Up until now I felt quite blessed, up until tonight I thought I was a fine example of the American Dream, and how stereotypes of what a black man is does not apply to every black man. Up until now I believed that this set me apart from the rest, this would allow me to be a leader, uplift my community, and I would receive the fair treatment that the friends I had collected along the way received. Today has convinced me that there is futility in the path that I have chosen.
Tomorrow night, after working eight and a half hours at my federal job, I go to my mid-scale Northern Virginia gym, and while walking out wearing sweats and a hoodie, and fishing my car keys out of my bookbag, I happen to match the description of a suspect in the area. A cop approaches me, gun drawn (because after all the suspect may be armed) and repeatedly yells for me to freeze and put my hands up. I attempt to ask why I am being arrested, and explain that I am withdrawing my hands from my bookbag, but naturally he cannot hear me over his own continued yells for my surrender so he opens fire. And in less than 60 seconds everything I was and am is boiled down to an unarmed black man who was shot by a cop who had reason to believe I was dangerous. My 30 years of life on this earth is summed up into a hashtag #justiceforKamal and a night interview with the cop who took my life.
I, of all my peers, had always retained faith in this country. I had faith because I treated Matt, Amber, Paul, Steve, Becky, Liz, Nicole, Mike, Gretta, Kyle, Katie, Doran, Preston, Chloe, and countless other non-black people with the love and respect that my parents raised me to show, and they truly treated me the same. They did not see a stereotype, a statistic, a figure in history that instills fear and pity at the same time. They saw me as they saw any man. I saw so many of my fair skin friends relate to me on a basic human level and while unable to empathize they did sympathize with me. They inspired hope that by the time my future children arrived, there would be no need for sympathy or empathy because we would all be equal in every sense of the word. The pity and fear that is borne at the sight of a black man would be a historical fact instead of a present state of mind. I no longer can believe that. For years I have watched a country turn against their President, which used to be considered treason; laws created to halt the immigration of one group while quietly allowing the influx of others; conservatives becoming extremists and liberals becoming fanatics. Things are not getting better, but in fact, are getting worse. And for a person like me who has always been uniquely attuned to the plight of others, my heart has become too heavy for me to bear...and all I could do is cry.
posted by K. Jobe | 07:32
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home