I am inevitably going to die someday. I want to live a long and healthy life surrounded by family and friends. However, during every waking moment I live in this country, the opportunity of living a long life looks unattainable. America has shown me time and time again that Black people exist as a nightmare to the American dream, and it is only a matter of time before this country kills me.
Being Black in America has certain elements that would seem too far-fetched for a horror movie. It has become an uncomfortable reality that I could be killed in broad daylight with witnesses around me, and still, there won’t be any form of justice or accountability. In most instances, a certain percentage of America will blame me for my death and offer advice on how I should have complied better or some other nonsense. Can you imagine what that does to one’s psyche in navigating the world? We have too many instances of parents burying their children because America believes it is tradition to destroy the Black body.
One of the clearest examples of white privilege in this country is that most white parents do not have “The Talk” with their children. For those who are lucky enough to be unaware of what “The Talk” is, it’s an essential conversation non-white parents have with their children on how to navigate a world that is clearly not made for them. It’s a conversation that can be the difference between life and death. This is a form of protection because once we leave our parents’ home, there’s nothing else they can do to protect us. They can only hope we don’t become the next hashtag on Twitter.
On the tired and overused line about compliance, I don’t know how to explain to white Americans how the death of an unarmed person is never the victim’s fault. There is a significant power dynamic between someone with a gun and someone without one. America has taught us to believe in the dehumanization of Black children, which in turn leads to seeing every Black person as a threat, regardless of their age or gender.
The advice on compliance is also illogical because we have seen instances where obedience still leads to fatality. The video of Adam Toledo, a 13-year-old seventh-grader at Gary Elementary School in Chicago, is a disturbing example of that. Chicago police officer Eric E. Stillman yelled, “Hands. Show me your hands. Drop it. Drop it.” Toledo complied, turned around and was still fatally shot by Stillman. Just like that, a 13-year-old’s life was abruptly cut short after doing everything Stillman told him. This is one of many examples of why law enforcement is seen as a source of terror rather than protection among many marginalized communities.
James Baldwin once said, “A cop is a cop, and he may be a very nice man, but I don’t have time to figure that out. All I know is that he has a uniform and a gun, and I have to relate to him that way.” If we comply, we die like Toledo, and when we don’t, we die like Daunte Wright. Either way, my fate is not in my hands.
Black grief has always been an equity problem in this country. The toll of repeatedly seeing a new life stolen without any consequence is too much to handle. There’s never time to grieve our lost loved ones because the deaths keep coming in waves, and there’s only so much mourning a person can take before they break.
The sadness doesn’t come from only the ones we’ve lost. It’s also from knowing that at any point, that could be you or a loved one. We cry tears for the future because we know some of us may never have one.
There’s no day off from being Black in this country. Most times, we have the extra workload of putting our trauma to the side and holding white people’s hands as they learn more about racism and injustice. The George Floyd verdict finally saw an instance of accountability, but, reader, ask yourself this question: Why was there so much anxiety on your mind as the jury was deciding the verdict? What does it say about our country that most of us still believed he’d walk free regardless of the fact we all saw him murder a man in broad daylight?
I refuse to let white supremacy win by becoming indifferent to Black death. However, I am starting to believe this country will never achieve the unity we all wish we could one day have. Despite the verdict in the Derek Chauvin trial, I have not felt as hopeless as I do at this moment since the inaction of our elected officials after the Sandy Hook shooting. Black American lives continue to be sacrificed at the altar of America’s moral conscience, and it may only be a matter of time before I become one of them.
Ozioma Mgbahurike is an electrical engineering sophomore and opinion writer for The Battalion.
