I read, post and comment on news reports that are of
interest to me on Facebook. As an Anti-Racism Trainer, stories about racism and
racial justice obviously fall into my interest area. I post stories when I
think there is a teaching element to them or when I just want to express my reaction to the stories. Part of Facebook’s appeal is
that it is a forum where I and other Facebookers can get emotional and
spiritual support for our feelings of grief, frustration, confusion, and angst
over things that happen in the world that we find distressing, oppressive, or
evil. Facebook is also a place where we can discuss these stories in depth.
The news stories that get reported and provoke the most
commentary tend to be the most egregious of their ilk, whether it be campaign
finance violations, ethics abuses in government and business, or racism in the
public arena including in the criminal justice arena. Bad news is news in the media.
I was asked about the story
of the White Kansas teenager who was chased by two Black teenagers and
doused with gasoline and set afire, and why I had not posted that story.
Frankly, I was unaware of that story until it was pointed out to me. That is
also a racially-motivated hate crime, this time against a young White man. I am
appalled at this hate crime, and I hope that the perpetrators will be brought
to justice. I will be praying for the injured teenager.
Regrettably, in these United States, systemic, institutional
racism does target people of color, especially those with the darkest skin.
That is not a matter of opinion. That is a fact. Thus, I and others, react and
respond to stories of racism against people of color. We do it both as a lament
of how things are and a cry for how things should and could be . . . if only we
loved our neighbors more and treated everyone as human beings deserving of
dignity and justice.
It is noteworthy to point out the disparity in the amount of
attention that a story about a racially-motivated hate crime gets, depending on
the race of the victim(s) and the race of the perpetrator(s). If I Google
“doused with gasoline,” I get less than a page of results to reach a news story
about the White Kansas teenager. That story hasn’t reached the proportions of
headline news like the still unfolding story about Trayvon
Martin.
The story of an unarmed Black man killed by armed police and
other policing authorities is not a one-time story. There have been other
stories with the same meme of an unarmed Black killed by policing authorities,
some shot in the back. See Amadou
Diallo (1999), Sean
Bell (2006), Prince
Jones (2011), Ramarley
Graham (2012), among other similar stories.
The four police officers who shot Diallo fired 41 shots and
were acquitted by a jury. Five officers fired 50 bullets in the Sean Bell case,
three were tried, and they were found not guilty, although the city of New York
settled a related civil case with a financial payment. The case of Prince
Jones, who was shot eight times in the back, shoulder and arm, involved a Black
undercover detective, and the prosecutor chose not to charge the police
officer, although the county ended up settling a civil suit with a financial
payment. Teenager Graham was shot and killed inside his home after a pursuit by
two police officers who are on
camera kicking down the door to the apartment; the shooting occurred in
early February, and the legal proceedings are in process. Martin was killed by
a neighborhood watch captain, identified by his father as Latino.
The race of the authority figures doing the shooting is not
limited to White; In Jones’ case, the shooter was a Black, and in Martin’s
case, a Latino. What is alarming is the number of cases involving unarmed
people, primarily males, of color, who become the victims of police shootings.
They are targeted, because they are dark-skinned, and they are suspected of
being in the places where they’re found for suspicious, illegal reasons, then
followed, questioned, or pursued aggressively, and confronted with baton or
guns and threatened with arrest or violence. This is wrong, and it is unjust. As
a nation, we must do better.
