Showing posts with label #BlackLivesMatter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label #BlackLivesMatter. Show all posts

Thursday, March 14, 2019

Give Me 50 Feet... #AndSomeFansToo

There was this time when I thought it would be a great idea to move to New York. In my mind, I saw New York City. In my contract, the city listed was located in upstate New York. I grew up in California so you probably know where this is going, right?

Winter came. It never left.

So I got up outta there.

But before I left, I met my life partner. I know what you’re thinking. I said I was single. Well, I am, because ain’t no flowers come for me on Valentine’s Day. Think of it this way. He and I will absolutely get married and have (adopt) babies for tax purposes. We have a wonderful relationship with each other and we prefer to have our relations with other people. This is the only open type of commitment I would accept - one with him exactly as I described.

So there was this one day we were at work and I was having the worst day. I could not figure out why I was in such a foul mood. This was beyond my normal woman issues, petty issues, or hunger issues. I gave him a call to figure out what was going on with me, because in (un)healthy relationships, your partner often knows you better than you know yourself. The diagnosis?

We shouldn’t have watched A Time To Kill last night…

He right. The bruised, beaten, and battered blood of the ancestors was boiling in my blood all-the-day long. It simmered in my soul while I slept the evening prior. I mean every person who didn’t look like me just...well, I just could not even. Even over the phone. It was like, why are you even calling me? Sure I’m the person responsible for that task and you are required to speak to me about it, but you need to gone away from me with that right now Paul.

So before Evelyn from the Internets gave calling in black a name to the prescription to watching A Time To Kill the night before work, that’s really what I needed to do. I needed time to be Black in a safe space because we know that being Black at work isn’t always safe (like well, just being Black wherever you are because, well, you know…listen to Evelyn).

It just so happens that in some Last Week Tonight marco polo news, Jigs was in a staff meeting feeling like LeBron, but left the meeting sick of they ish like Rajon. LeBron was you sitting at the end of the conference room table with a few empty seats between you and everyone else because you have a "cough" trying to disguise your whole attitude as a partial sinus issue ... Rajon is you basically going to another team meeting because, just no, God, please no.  Rajon Rondo is me, is you, he is all of us mapping out the route to California Pizza Kitchen for an afternoon cocktail just *clap* as *clap* soon *clap* as the meeting ends. Have you ever been in a meeting, being the only kind of person that looks like you, and seeing it as a perfect opportunity to reclaim the dignity stripped away from your Great Uncles and Aunties at the hands of jim(bob)crow? Well, there we find Jigs.

It just so happens the film review was about The Help. I can’t even. A group of non black women sitting around a conference table talking about how wonderful a movie was, centered around the life of Jig’s great grandmother likely cleaning the floors and nursing the babies of the people that eventually birthed the people that birthed them. You know how they do – like ole girl on the streets of San Francisco – they say they loved the movie because it’s about black people, but somehow they totally get how awful that time was and how terribly black people were being treated. It’s totes wrong, like OMG, soooo terrible. But they did a wonderful job on the movie. Also, I did not vote for Trump.

...then they reach a hand out towards your fresh twist out without even asking. They mispronounce your name though you put a phonetic pronunciation in your email signature six years ago. But that’s not the worst of it. They actually treat you like, well, the *&^%^  &^^%  %#&## help! Sure you’re not in the office Viola stomping back and forth from the fax machine, but they’re part reason that the Eff it, I’ll do it. - signed Black Women, meme is a whole fact.

It just so happens that Jigs and I had a similar response to this at-work experience.

We left. Ain’t nobody got time for that.

Tuesday, December 9, 2014

OUTLIERS... #HowManyOfYouAreThere?

Dear Outliers,

Do me a solid and have a seat. Don’t know if you’re an Outlier? Well, if you are not someone who directly supports and/or commits behaviors such as the officers in the Eric Garner or Keyarika Diggles cases…and you’re on that side of law enforcement, then I’m talking to you. And you should be seated on that there pew. For example, if you have never choked a man to death for selling a loose cigarette, then you should have a seat. None of this applies to you. (you can read this tho)

Okay, now what was I writing…

You non-outliers are so quick to say you don’t know us, our work, our struggle, our life etc. etc. etc… And you are right. I don’t know all of that. But I do know a man gasping for air when I see one. And I didn’t even use any of my fancy degrees for that.

Since when did we have to “be in the know” about these things to offer critique. Our country’s foundation is built on that very premise…along with the backs of my ancestors…but that’s another blog post. How often do teachers come under fire for failing students? What do you know about obtaining a credential and managing a classroom? What about doctors for their (mal)practice and life intervening techniques? You took your Hippocratic Oath when exactly? And our favorite…lawyers for their linguistic gymnastics via the various interpretations of the legal system? You passed which Bar Exam? California?? Sure you did. Hell, even Wall Street. The extent of my experience is an Economics class at Menlo-Atherton High School [TINSTASFL] and a selfie I took with that bull thingie. But, does that make my commentary on the thousands of innocent 401Ks and retirement plans of my fellow Americans lost to corporate greed less relevant? And really people, there have been what, 40 some odd Presidents in this country and how many billion people somehow presume to know exactly what President Obama should be doing?

Critique. Criticism. Feedback. Evaluation. These things are part of life. Get over it. We did not turn over authority to law enforcement along with our opinion and feedback about the service we receive. We kept that. We keep that. And, we will continue to give it.

I work in higher education. I am a trained student development educator. I am in essence, an expert of sorts on college students. Yet week after week, I hear from parents who see my “expert” knowledge of their college student as false because that’s their “child” and they would never set fire to a trashcan that in turn burned half the suite furniture. Never. I’m totally wrong.

Do you see me on a soapbox? Well, every so often because, well stress. But, I hear them. I listen to them. I weigh their messages with what they think I don’t know. And I show empathy. They have no idea what my life is like behind these campus walls. I will never know what it was to give birth to someone, and leave them at the wall – come what may.

If every officer were like you outliers, then we would not be having this conversation. To be honest, for every #CrimingWhileWhite story, there’s a #CrimingWhileCop one. Your experiences with police as civilians are soooo divergent from the general populace. So miss me with that. I don’t know your life. And you have no idea what it feels like to be afraid to death at the sound of sirens and sight of light, attempting to rationalize to yourself that you must have done something wrong, though, the most you could come up with is #DrivingWhileBlack.

There are those of you who exercise good judgment. Enforce the law justly. Educate civilians on your processes and procedures. Represent yourselves and the true purpose of your profession with great honor. You protect and serve. Risk your lives daily. The sentiments that have been shared are not about you. At all. However, we wonder, how can you in good conscious say that Eric Garner or the countless black bodies beaten, bruised and lost somehow ALL earned their fates? As if it was their fault in every single case. How many times did he tell the officer he couldn’t breathe? Is it a crime to be sleep? Did Eric present some danger that we couldn’t see? A danger that meant he didn’t have the right to breathe? If so, enlighten me. I’ll wait. Like really, I would like to know, so I will wait. Are you so far behind your shield and uniform so snug that you cannot objectively propose that perhaps there was another way? If now, then the aisle leading to the pews are open for you too. There’s room.

I have heard all too often that officers were in fear for their lives. This is not an untruth. I cannot dispute that at all. But, if you are so anxious, if your judgment is always thrown off, if every time we Monday Morning Quarterback your decisions there was always something else that you could have done, then maybe law enforcement was not the profession for you. You realize we hold athletes and entertainers more accountable than you? Tony Romo is my quarterback and I stand behind him as a Cowboys fan, but it would be absurd for me to excuse every interception JUST BECAUSE he’s the quarterback, and I’ve never been one. No, he’s needs to practice, meditate and read the damn defense. My fantasy football team will never be great or make it to the playoffs if something doesn’t change! I thought I was going to be a Sports Doctor at one time. I loved my academic study. Did a decent job in it. Thought it was the field for me. Then, after seeing enough sports injuries I thought, or nah. As much as I loved my intensive academic study, the reality was, I was not going to be the best Sports Doctor. And it was really hard to let go of that dream. But at some point, you have to take inventory of yourself and be honest. If you can’t be honest, ask a friend…or a therapist. Or Jesus.

While I was realizing the dream of Sports Medicine that I would realize wasn’t my dream at all, I was a Resident Assistant. It seems funny that I hated my first RA, and yet I ended up in the profession. I naively believed (as many people who choose their careers) that I could make a difference in the lives of my fellow students, especially the ones that looked like me.

Before I became an RA I felt that these “students” had way too much power, didn’t understand what I was going through, weren’t helpful, didn’t listen, and planned stupid programs that me and my friends would never go to. Then I became an RA. I realized that indeed “we students” had a considerable amount of power, were trained to understand our residents and provide them resources, were super helpful – though not always the help our residents wanted, listened to every single thing because we had to write it in weekly reports and document it in incidents, and sometimes planned stupid programs because we were sometimes awful time managers. I had sooooo much power. Because I was trained, I knew the policies (law) and I was trusted by the University Staff to be able to identify and document violations. Sure there was due process and objectivity in the conduct process, but the documentation of an RA? It’s assumed as truth first. Let’s face it, it just is… And with that, potentially an innocent student could end up with a conduct record. A record that would remain part of that student’s educational records… A severe enough violation could even end up notated on a transcript. All starting from an RA incident report. And with all that power, came great responsibility.

In conversations I have with folks today about my career, this comes up. The “RA” Conversation. Because all these educated folks I hang out with has one of these stories. And, they are usually not as awesome as the stories I think my residents have about me. Actually, they are pretty terrible. There are a crap ton of really bad RAs out there. And it pains me to hear it, because I took pride in my job and advocated for my residents. I took their safety and security to heart, and did my best to make good decisions. But not every RA was like me. And not every police officer is like you Outliers.

When we have those conversations, I usually never respond in defense. Mostly because I was not there. I did not live in that building or on that floor. I have no idea how that RA was trained. Or if they cared about their free housing more than their residents. I don’t attempt to make their experience invalid because I was a good RA, and I knew plenty of other good RAs. That person’s experience as a resident is truth. And my work as an RA who was professional, supportive, advocating for my residents, and often exceeding expectations of my supervisors is truth. These two truths can co-exist. We’ve just uncovered the lie that so many choose to overlook.

The nation is hurting. Many people of color have a crisis of conscious every time they realize they "need" 911. Vigilante justice is frowned upon unless you’re Oliver McQueen #WeDontKnowHowToUseBowsAndArrows #WeWouldGladlyDoItOurselves, you know, and we really don’t know which 911 we’re going to get. Will it be one of you Outliers, or will it be Darren Wilson? Or perhaps the Denver Police Officer who stood in the 2-day-payday gap for the family with the autistic child? [the Black denver police officer, but law enforcer nonetheless…this tea is delicious]

These are proverbial straws that are breaking our backs, cutting off our air, and killing us in our sleep. Lives are being lost. While you’re busy defending your position, there are those laying their families to rest. Meanwhile, the persons responsible are allowed to testify in secret. These families bury those bodies with the knowledge that not only did the police fail them, a "grand" jury probably not of their peers failed them as well. If you cannot imagine what it is like to live like this, knowing what we know, how can you expect us to understand your life is like behind the shield? ...or empathize with you?

I’m not even sure how to end this,

……………..