I Can’t Breathe -Silent No More
I distinctly remember my first encounter with racism. I was 4 years old and attended a private preschool in Baltimore county. I had just become friends with another 4 year old girl in my class. Her skin was brown like chocolate, and her jet-black hair was always worn back in braids with round beads at the end, which always knocked together happily when she walked or moved her head. I remember wishing I could have braids with colorful beads on the end too. It looked like much more fun than my straight brown ponytail.
I was so excited when my new friend invited me over for a playdate so her mom could braid my hair too. I imagined all the different colored beads I would choose and the jolly “clank clank” sounds they would make as I would bounce into school the next day. I couldn’t wait! I told another friend about my excitement, a white girl, and she said “I’m not allowed to have playdates with black people.” I remember feeling very confused. I’d never heard the term “black person” before and didn’t understand why someone wouldn’t be allowed to play with another little girl from our class. I said, “But she’s not black, she’s brown - can’t you have a playdate with her?” I then learned from this 4 year old white girl how people with brown skin are called “Black” and how we shouldn’t play with them because they smell different, eat strange food, and are dangerous. I remember looking over at my friend with the pink and purple beads in her hair and wondering if this could really be true. There was so much new information, too much to process or understand. I don’t remember what happened next, but I know we never ended up having that playdate after all.
Racism is something we learn from a very young age, when we are most impressionable. If left unchecked, it can continue to grow inside of us like a malignant tumor. It’s a disease which has been part of the foundation of this country and many others since their beginnings. It remains dormant most of the time, but sometimes the infection grows. If left untreated, sometimes people die.
With the recent murder of George Floyd, another innocent black life lost due to racism and police brutality, the country has erupted in protest and rage. And with good reason. In the past, I’ve remained neutral around issues of race and social justice. I wondered what others would think of me if I spoke up, and honestly, I wasn’t always sure how I felt. I would try to find a reason besides racism for the murders, I would try to understand both sides and how things could have gotten out of hand. I didn’t want to get into arguments on social media and potentially lose friends or followers. I’m writing this blog today to say I’m sorry for not speaking up before. I’m professing today: Black Lives Matter.
I watched the video of George Floyd’s murder today, and I couldn't believe my eyes. A man was begging for air as his hands were tied behind his back and an officer continued to shove his knee with his fully body weight into this man’s neck, ignoring his cries for breath. While onlookers pleaded for help, another officer stood in an aggressive, threatening stance. After 8 minutes and 46 seconds of being pinned to the road begging for his life and calling for his mother, Floyd stopped breathing. I’ve never seen someone die before- and for what? George Floyd did not deserve to lose his life on May 25, 2020, and certainly not in such a tragic way. It doesn’t matter what Floyd did or didn’t do to get arrested initially. He was murdered for being Black.
I’m a white girl from an upper-middle class family. I went to private schools my entire life, and hid behind my Italian last name so I wouldn’t be discriminated against for being Jewish when people first met me. I’ve never had to worry about being profiled at the airport or pulled over for no reason. In the very few interactions I’ve had with police officers, I knew I never had to worry about a small issue escalating into an arrest or brutality. I’ve never been frisked, been asked to get out of my car, or had a weapon pointed at me. I’ve never had to worry about not getting a job because of my skin color. I’ve absolutely taken advantage of my white privilege and I will never understand how it feels to be a person of color. But I’m trying now. I see you, I hear you, I support you, and I respect you. I will no longer stay silent about injustice- racial or otherwise. I’m sorry for not speaking up sooner. I’m sorry for not having that playdate in preschool. I can do better, and I promise to start now.
