"White Silence Is White Violence." Maybe Silent No Longer

With the videoed death of a man at the hands of police, anger, pain, fear, and frustration burst through the veneer of peace that has covered America's systemic racism. It's an old story, as Spike Lee noted on Don Lemon's show last night, "I Can't Breathe: Black Men Living & Dying," and as Trevor Noah reported two days ago.

There was a new dimension.

People--both white and black--took the streets of American cities.

African-Americans were exhausted by years of fearing for their own and their loved ones' lives at the hands of poorly trained, poorly disciplined, or simply racist police officers. There was rage about the inaction of Americans to solve the problem, a white problem.

George Floyd's death also awakened many white Americans. They joined the protests.

They were not alone. Public officers and officials joined the protestors. A sheriff in Michigan removed his helmet and joined in the protest march. Houston's police chief promised an escort for George Floyd and his family when he is returned to his birthplace to be buried. (See the New York Times article. You could also view the CNN report.)

More important, police officials have condemned the actions of the Minneapolis police officers responsible for the death of Floyd, including Minneapolis Police Chief Medaria Arradondo, as noted in a CNN interview:

"In an emotional response to George Floyd's family Sunday night, the Minneapolis police chief says in his mind, all four officers involved in the black man's killing bear the same responsibility. 'Mr. Floyd died in our hands and so I see that as being complicit,' Chief Medaria Arradondo told CNN's Sara Sidner. 'Silence and inaction, you're complicit. If there was one solitary voice that would have intervened ... that's what I would have hoped for.'...

"Arradondo's response Sunday came after Floyd's brother asked the chief if he would work to get justice for Floyd. As the chief answered, Floyd's brother wept. Arradondo called the killing a 'violation of humanity,' and said he didn't need any more time than what he had to remove the officers from their duties. 'There are absolute truths in life; we need air to breathe,' the chief said. 'The killing of Mr. Floyd was an absolute truth that it was wrong.'" 

In a moment of solidary, people around the world protested the events surrounding Floyd's death.

In the darkness of this moment, a light shined on our universal humanity, making me wonder for the first time in many years that there's hope for America yet.

I need that hope--not for me. I'm an old guy. There's less of my life in front of me than behind me. I need it for my grandsons who have much, much more ahead of them. I don't want them to be knelt on, "chokeholded", or shot. I want to imagine their lives running as smoothly as it did for my white sons. Same opportunities. Same justice. Same right to pursue their happiness.

At the same time, I feel guilty or ashamed. I have not identified the feeling.

I am "new" to this. The injustice against people of color in America no longer is an abstract, a two-dimensional world of recognizing unfairness and analyzing potential solutions. I lived in that two-dimensional world for decades. My grandsons infused it with a third dimension. It's now personal and, therefore, more frightening and frustrating as it has been for people of color for centuries.