Today a black friend posted on FB, "If you have a black friend, and you don't understand their pain right now, you don't have a black friend, you simply know a black person." I get his meaning. I understand that not understanding the pain of the black community right now means you do not truly know the members of that community. And maybe, if you don't understand in this moment, you never will understand the experience of black Americans thus never truly understanding the black people in your life.
I am his friend but I will say "I do not understand and I never will." But, it is my responsibility to continually try to understand by listening, learning, having tough conversations, showing up. He does not speak for his community nor do any of the other black friends and colleagues I am so fortunate to have in my life. I will never ask them "what is it like to be a Black American?" as their experiences are as unique as each one of them but I can listen to their stories, hear their experiences, enjoy their presence in my life (and I SO do!). I can never offer them full understanding of what is like to live under the oppression of systemic racism or face racism in life in both big and little ways every day. I can never understand.
I can never understand that weight or how trauma piles on, experience after experience, year after year. I shake when I am pulled over by police but I don't fear for my life. When have you actually feared for your life? For your actual life, that you may not walk out of a situation still breathing? And if you did, how did you respond? Were you rationale? Were you able to logically decide in the blink of an eye what the best course of action was to save your life? I have been pulled over more times in my 40s than ever before for things like a taillight out or expired plates. All but one of these stops was in an almost all white small town. I wasn't afraid that I would not walk out of that situation alive. One time I was pulled over twice in two days because of the expired plates. The first guy gave me 10 days to cure and the second guy pulled me over again. I explained and I went on my way. I can never understand what it is like to drive while black and fear that that police stop may be my last, I think of second lieutenant Caron Nazario, who had his hands out the window to show he was unarmed but feared for his life. I didn't have to do that. He was pepper sprayed anyway. He lived but Daunte Wright and countless others have not survived. I can never understand.
But, Duante was non-compliant you may say. He should have done exactly what he was told to do. How many black people have been shot anyway or never even had a chance to comply? What would you do if your life was in danger (as black men know all too well that they are when police pull them over). Fight or flight? That is the biological response of the human body when faced with a threat. Fight or fight. In 1985, the Supreme Court ruled that unless a suspect poses an imminent threat or danger to the officer, a fleeing suspect may not be shot. In the words of Justice Byron R. White "It is not better that all felony suspects die than that they escape." Flight is not a justification for police violence. Too often an officer can claim they saw a weapon but it's a phone, a toy gun, a sandwich. Shoot first, ask questions later, even if the suspect is fleeing. I can never understand.
Two incidents come to my mind as I think about my experiences being pulled over. I was pulled over for speeding near my home in Milwaukee with my teenage daughter in the car. Quickly and without warning, two MPD officers each with flashlights in their hands flashed into the vehicle, one on each side. I didn't think to myself about the placement of my hands (I know all black Americans are taught generation after generation to place their hands on the wheel.) I may have even been reaching for my phone as my license is contained in its case. I was startled as was my daughter since I was not expecting their rapid exit from the vehicle or two officers at our windows. I rolled down my window with the flashlight shining in my face. The officer asked if I knew I was going 20 MPH over the speed limit which I did not. He then asked if I had just exited the freeway which I had not (almost excusing my behavior for me). He didn't ask for my license, my name, my registration. "Okay, slow down," he said. As we pulled away, my daughter stated "that would not have happened like that if we were black." But I can never understand the fear of driving while black.
Another time in Milwaukee, while I was working in education, I was driving with my white, middle -aged, male principal with me in the car. We had been driving up and down the avenue delivering school posters to businesses. I was pulled over right in front of the school on our return. What happens next continues to amaze me. I knew I wasn't even speeding this time and although I might not think about where to place my hands, I know to stay in the vehicle. For some reason, my principal, maybe because of his position or simply because of his white privilege, thought he could get out of the car to talk sense into the officer and assure him, as educators, we were upstanding citizens and didn't break any laws. I could hear the officer repeatedly yelling at him to get back in the vehicle. As I remember it, they both came around the vehicle to my side to talk - it was a case of mistaken identity according to the officer and we went on our way. No gun or taser or force. Because he was white and grey, he was not deemed as a threat even as he left the vehicle and approached the officers. How many black men have been shot for less? My black friend is the same age now as my principal was at that time. I have no doubt that outcome would have been much different if he had made such a thoughtless error. Black men are a threat, weapon or not, in our society. I can never understand.
Each of my encounters with police, in the city or in a small white town, I know were colored by my appearance, by my whiteness. I've never had to have the talk with my children about how to respond when they are pulled over - where to pull over (well lit), and where to put their hands (steering wheel). I haven't had to teach them to change their normal tone or use "yes, sir/ma'am." I haven't had to do that and while I worry about my black friends whom I love like family, I will not understand the fear and worry of my child being targeted by law enforcement for the color of their skin. That fear, that worry - I can never understand.
What can I offer my friend? I cannot offer my understanding because I never will. But I will also never stop trying to understand. I will learn more, I will listen more, I will speak up more, but no, I can never understand.
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