12/08/2014 by syrbal-labrys
My youngest son, blessedly home with us again, did two tours in Afghanistan. I was in a sort of parental purgatory all of those long months. My day went well if there was an email to reassure me in my box. But, of course, it WAS a war zone. There was not always email, not always even weekly — sometimes not for a month or more. And I was literally crazed with fear that my youngest son was wounded, maimed, or dead.
There was much more to fear than fear itself, sorry, FDR. There was death to fear. Loss to fear. My motherly arms could not protect a child half a world away. Now, think about that, White America, please? Because that state of daily terror and anticipatory horror and grief IS the daily existence of black parents all around America. Because right here at “home”, they have to wonder every time their child — especially a male child — walks out the door, whether or not that child will ever walk back in again. Because right here in America, a 14 year old girl, presumably crying and screaming, is tackled, handcuffed, and thrown into the police car of the man who just murdered her twelve year old brother. Yeah, black parents don’t need Afghanistan to be scared shitless.
Mr. Obama? Racism is not something we’ve made progress on IF that kind of shit still happens. You are wrong, you are vocally gilding a shit-lily, frosting a shit-cake-of-lies to try to make everyone work together. That is not working. Cops turn OFF body cameras, Sir; cops in this country are not being held accountable to the law. People of color KNOW this the way they know it is raining — because they feel it on their skin.
I’m white and we are still clinging to the skirt tails of the shrinking middle class. My own father beat me for playing with black kids in our neighborhood as military brats in Germany in the 1960’s. Both my veteran sons are home and pretty much dependent upon us for a home and food. I am ok with this; it beats the other options I had, doesn’t it?
But that is the thing, even with my sons at risk of WAR, I HAD more options than black parents around this nation. And as someone who bore the beatings and kept faith with her black playmates? I have to tell you, that seriously pisses me OFF. We constantly get a barrage of media drivel about military men and women “dying for American freedoms” — I am about fucking SICK of that. Because just what freedoms are they talking about? Freedom of the rich to profiteer off war? Freedom of white women like me to welcome home injured, but living sons? What about the freedom of black parents to welcome home living children who never even had to go near a war zone to be at a worse risk of dying? Just fucking WHEN does freedom to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness REALLY extend to all citizens?
So, Mrs. Rice wants a conviction for the murder of her son. And if you don’t think her son was murdered by the cop who jumped from the car, gun drawn and shot in two seconds, you are either an idiot or an asshole, or both. I greatly fear what will happen if a grand jury again hands down NO indictment; and yes, someone will shout — in incredulous agonized fury, “Let it burn!” And white people will declare that oh-so-wrong. Well, you hypocritical shitstains, let me tell you what, ok?
If the color were reversed and it was your precious pale children being killed by black cops? There would be a serious shortage of (a) matches, (b)uncharred buildings, and (c) well-rested firemen all over the nation. Because if a twelve year old with a toy pistol being shot on a playground by a white cop who then tackles, handcuffs and leaves his older sister to stare at his dead body isn’t enough to get an indictment?
Then maybe it SHOULD burn….sometimes it takes a “fever” to kill a disease. And America has a serious case of racism, of thinking black lives do NOT matter, and of excusing cops of breaking the very laws they swore to uphold. I just think burning one’s own neighborhood is a sorry assed way to “bring it” to the guilty parties.