The Ugly Taste of Racial Profiling: Emotionally Spent
It’s been a trying couple of weeks for me and really, for
humanity. Two weekends ago, we lost one of our very good friends to brain cancer
and I was trying to cope. I hadn’t seen her years and I stupidly thought that I
would have time to go see her again. Then that took me down memory lane to
another aunt I thought I would see again after leaving home. She suddenly
passed away and I never even got the chance to say goodbye. I still don’t know
why we act like we have control over things when we really don’t. I’ve come to finally
learn that growing up (unfortunately) means that we’re bound to experience losses
and there’s absolutely nothing to prepare us for sudden deaths. So many are the
ones we never get to see again and the new ones we’ll be fortunate to meet.
Which brings me to the lives we’ve lost recently. Reading the
news made me so weak, I had to stay away from the news for a while. Initially, when
I saw the “officer puts his knee on the neck of a black man” news titles, I wondered
what had changed that had made the news come up again. I didn’t even prepare
myself for the possibility of a new death. I guess I had just hoped it wasn’t
happening again. Especially not too long after Ahmaud Arbery’s death and the unleashed
dog incident. My heart grieved for their families and my heart hurt for the black
community at large. May the souls we’ve lost rest in perfect peace.
In this past week, I’ve relived again, how small a security guard
made me feel when I was only walking home; how the police were called on my
sister and cousin because they went into the bank to withdraw funds and the
cashier didn’t believe black people could not be destitute – luckily, the
policemen were thinking straight and we didn’t have to tell a different story;
how my friends and I wouldn’t be served at a bar based solely on the colour of
our skins; how during my walk, a dog owner let out her unleashed dog and I had
to stand still for minutes while it stood in my way and barked at me before she
finally called it back and then said “good boy.” I can go on and on. But unfortunately,
my experiences are not unique. They are only a portion of the lived-experiences
of black people. So many have gone through and do go through worse daily.
The fact that black people carry around these fears and
anxiety all day every day and are still somehow not expected to have any mental
health issues, is baffling to me. Society doesn’t want to accept that these
issues exist in these communities and the communities themselves don’t want to
think of themselves/family members having any such issues. I’m yet to learn of the
acceptance of mental health diagnoses among so called “developing countries.” It
just doesn’t fit in any culture or tradition I’ve encountered. The events of
the last few days show that we need to have some mental health counseling implemented
very soon. Our children need to be able to find safe outlets and discuss how
they feel and their concerns for the future. The mental and physical weights each
person carries every day is tasking and people have gradually reached their
tipping points. The statistics to support the disparities are not new and they
are scary.
Now that we’re older and are having children, my anxiety
also grows for our children. What do we do for them so they can have better lives? Do
we teach them to be afraid? Do we teach them to expect unease/death? Or do we
teach them to fight? I have been unable to come up with a response to these
questions without increasing my fears. The unrest in various cities shows
different levels of anger, distress, helplessness, fear, uncertainty, hopelessness
and a vast number of other emotions. It is so difficult to watch and read. It is
difficult not to feel pain. It is difficult to do nothing. It is human lives at
stake and it is difficult.
Trevor Noah summed it all so eloquently in his video last
week (see here). I believe his assessment is worthy of being included in
school syllabi going forward. I think that as a student, I would have benefited
from listening to such descriptions about race and society. Watching him grapple
with his feelings while explaining these events, is everything. His emotions
were raw.
Whenever I experience/read about/see racial injustice, I drown
my fears and sorrows by singing Wyclef Jean’s “Diallo.” I loved the song before
I understood the lyrics but once I really listened to the song, it scared me and
taught me about history.
I pray for the Diallos, the Steven Bikos, the Ahmaud
Arbery’s, and the George Floyds. Like Trevor Noah rightly mentioned, there are
experiences that didn’t make the news because people didn’t die. But these
people had their lives turned around due to other peoples' terrible prejudices.
I pray for healing, transformation, and peace. I pray especially for strength
in these times and the times to follow. There is so much unrest Bloggie and the
world is not a happy place currently.
God please help us,
Tonia
Comments
Post a Comment