Today We Weep
I have black friends who tell me that there are some days they just don’t want to be black. They are tired of code switching. Tired of micro-aggressions. Tired of injustice. Tired of racism. Tired of having well-meaning white folk try to touch their hair or ask them dumb questions about being black. Tired of living in a white dominant culture and white fragility. Tired of seeing black men murdered by police brutality. Tired of mourning the loss of another black life. Tired of fighting for justice. Tired of weeping when they learn they are pregnant with a son (because they know the dangers of being a black male in America). They are exhausted. Straight up exhausted from being black.
I have never experienced this. Not once have I woken up in the morning and thought to myself, “I don’t want to be white today.” In fact, I never even think about the fact that I AM white. I just get up and go about my day. It’s just what is.
People of color have no such luxury. My friends carry a burden with them every day that I don’t. And let me be clear - the burden isn’t being black (or brown, etc.). The burden is what we put on them. They live in a white dominated culture that isn’t aware of/or doesn’t acknowledge the lack of equality, the white privilege, and the injustices that my friends encounter ALL THE TIME. Whenever said injustice is pointed out to a white audience, we respond with our white fragility, seeking ways to discredit the account or experience of our friends. We seek to regain our superior footing while keeping the black man in his place - whether we are conscious of this or not. We say things like, “Trayvon shouldn’t have worn a hoodie” or “Eric Garner shouldn’t have resisted” or “The kids at the pool shouldn’t have been fighting” or “Tamir shouldn’t have been playing with a toy gun and where were his parents?” As if any of this justifies the police brutality we have seen. There is no excuse.
People of color feel these burdens EVERY DAY. I’m just starting to see and feel them as much as I can. Sometimes the burden feels so heavy I wonder how my friends of color even get out of bed and face the world. It honestly doesn’t surprise me that being black exhausts them. We exhaust them.
So maybe it’s time for us to be black. It’s time to share the burden.
And that means today we weep.
Alton Sterling.
Today we mourn and lament. We feel the injustice. We feel the pain of his family when we see his son breaking down on the news. We feel the pain of our friends’ reactions. We feel the outrage of hundreds of years of injustice. We feel the cry of the collective community. We feel what our friends of color feel too much and all too often.
And then we act. We join the fight. We educate ourselves. We shout from every mountaintop that we’ve had enough. We join our friends in protest. We speak and demand justice. We seek legislation that changes corrupt and racist systems. We do whatever it takes to ensure that every person of color, created in God’s image, is treated with the same sanctity of life and equality that we afford ourselves.
So it’s time for us to be black. Of course I know that is impossible. I will never truly know what my friends experience every day. I am white and so my understanding will always be limited. But I can sure do my damnedest to see through their lens. And in so doing, I can stand with my friends and ensure them they are not alone.
And on the days when they are too exhausted to be black, I can be their Aaron and Hur (see Exodus 17:12).