From Here, Where?

There will be rallies in 100 or more cities across the USA this Saturday.  Some friends will be going to the Columbia, SC march—a walk from the State House to the Federal Courthouse.  This symbolic march toward justice honors the memory of Trayvon Martin and asks the Department of Justice for help in getting justice.   I can't be in Columbia, but my heart and mind will be in solidarity with the marchers. 

 

The killing of Trayvon Martin begs for change and lots of it.  For starters, how about repealing the "stand your ground"provision in self defense law in Florida and other states, including South Carolina?   Then there are the gun law changes we talked so passionately about after the Sandy Hook horror and all the other senseless deaths from gunfire since then.  Public passion for gun regulation did not translate into changing laws or regulations.  In fact, even a simple background check bill did not pass.  Time to bring that bill back and get it done—that bill and more.  Time to pool Bloomberg, Giffords, the Brady Group, and other organization resources to show the NRA leadership they can't keep winning this fight. 

 

Just when I begin to think I can exhale and find some peace, something triggers fresh outrage or exacerbates my grief.   After watching a replay of  CNN's interview with one juror in the Zimmerman trial,  I'm feeling more anger and frustration.  How can anyone believe race wasn't a factor here?  Is it possible to mandate diversity on juries? 

 

 I'm hoping this tragedy—and a system that didn't lead to "justice for all"— will lead us to explore the topic of race far more honestly, openly, and deeply than ever before.  Not solely through media commentary or social media.  This kind of change can't be a passive exercise, but rather something experiential.  Maybe one goal could be challenging all Americans to commit to the same intention:  Getting to know people whose race or ethic background is different.  A national movement.   Seriously, think about it. Any ideas on the subject? 

Note added 7/17/13:  Don't miss Eugene Robinson's excellent piece.  http://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/eugene-robinson-black-boys-denied-the-right-to-be-young/2013/07/15/d3f603d8-ed69-11e2-9008-61e94a7ea20d_story.html?hpid=z2

 

I have been examining my own unacknowledged denial of how acute racism is today.   My friends and associates also are grieving the Zimmerman verdict.  They think and feel very much as I do.  They're Liberals or Progressives.  Only one friend is Independent politically.   I'm good at avoiding people who make racist remarks—that is, eliminating people from my personal circle of life who even have thoughts that might lead to such a remark.  So, I can see that I've been sheltering myself—not from the reality of racism, but the magnitude of it.  And I must commit to staying plugged in to that miserable reality.

 

Something I have come to believe down to the marrow of my bones:  The opposite of love is not hate, but fear.   Yes, hate is the costume fear often wears, but hate is not love's opposite.

 

We need more than superficial change, more than artificial change.  This time must be different. We must come to grips with decades of denial and find ways to stop being so damned scared of black men and boys.  Boys like Trayvon Martin.  We need to learn more about our fears.  One way to do that, seems to me, is to get to know some of the "others" personally.  Only then can we hope to give our individual and collective fears a rest.  Yes, let's all get to know some of the "scary" others.   We also can open ourselves to being known, a bigger challenge than you might think.  And we can make time to build relationships with "others."   Ultimately we're likely to come to understand and believe this:  The only thing to fear really is fear itself.