Get Your Foot off My Neck
16 Ways White America Can Revive Opportunities for Blacks.
With national protests screaming across our country over the killing of (more) unarmed Black people, I have been doing a lot of thinking about my experiences with racism, as far back as early childhood.
The first time I remember being aware that I was Black was when I was 8-years-old. I stayed the night at the house of my great-uncle who lived in Black Rock, a section of Bridgeport, CT that bled into the predominately White town of Fairfield. I was playing hide-&-seek with a group of white kids I befriended in the neighborhood. I remember hiding behind a trash can in the back of Adam’s house (my White friend who lived across the street from my great-uncle) and accidentally startled his mom when she went to toss out the smelly fish guts she had wrapped in a newspaper. Other than her gasping in the way people do when they are startled, I can’t recall other details of her reaction. However, I do remember having a crash course about Emmit Till by his stepdad (who I thought was a police officer, but later came to understand was just an armed security guard). As I ran from the backyard to the front of the house, with a victorious smile for not being found by my friends, Adam’s step-dad knocked the wind out of my sails with a dose of racist chastisement.
“Hey, boy” he called, standing behind the screen of the door in his uniform, as I turned the corner of the porch. “You ever heard of Emmit Till?” He adjusted his holstered gun.
Thinking he was another kid in the neighborhood, I smiled, “No. Does he live over here?”
His retort is something I almost always associate with understanding the 1955 Mississippi kidnapping and lynching of the 14-year-old Chicago kid who whistled at a White woman. “You gonna meet him if I catch you in my yard again.” None of the White kids who played in his yard got that lecture.
Throughout the years, there have been more reinforcers than I can forget of this notion of what it means to be Black in America. The 1989 killing of Yusef Hawkins in Brooklyn, NY. Both of my parents being indicted when I was 6 years-old, serving approximately 4 years in federal prison. The 1991 beating of Rodney King in LA. The 1999 assassination of Amadou Diallo. The 2000 indictment and16-year prison sentence of myself, and post-release arrest, in part, for child support arrears that accrued while I was incarcerated.
While each video that we have seen of brutality at the hands of police is horrifying to watch, many Black people are never truly surprised at what white supremacy is capable of. We are, however, often surprised and disappointed by the silence and inaction of those with influence and power.
If we’re being honest, we can (without judgment of one another) acknowledge that there actually isn’t a collective feeling of racial injustice. Some view this as a uniquely Black issue, unable to empathize or offer compassion. Some are genuinely concerned, but unsure as to how to truly provide support. Others could simply care less.
Ahmaud Arbery. Sean Reed. Breonna Taylor. Tony McDade. George Floyd. Those are just the recent names of African American’s who have been killed in the last month-or-so alone by the hands of police in our country, George Floyd being the tipping point, resulting in the reverberating national choruses of “I can’t breathe!”
For at least 8 minutes and 46 seconds, George Floyd was handcuffed, pinned to the ground with a knee to the back of his neck, and asphyxiated by the 170 lb weight of Derek Chauvin, a white cavalier Minneapolis police officer.
At least 16 times, over a period of 5 minutes, George Floyd pleaded, “I can’t breathe!”
I can’t breathe!
I can’t breathe!
I can’t breathe!
I can’t breathe!
I can’t breathe!
I can’t breathe!
I can’t breathe!
I can’t breathe!
I can’t breathe!
I can’t breathe!
I can’t breathe!
I can’t breathe!
I can’t breathe!
I can’t breathe!
I can’t breathe!
That officer crushing George Floyd’s neck is a real-life manifestation of how people who don’t have access to resources and power — disproportionately those of color — are both proverbially and literally stepped on and forced into the submission of an inequitable and inhumane racial caste system. The other officer involved, who passively stood with his back turned to the injustice, demonstrates privilege in operation. He symbolizes the millions of Americans who say they believe in justice, fairness, and equity, but allow an institutionalized racist system to continue operating in their names.
“Shallow understanding from people of goodwill is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will.” — Martin Luther King, Jr.
Feelings of “White guilt” in response to what we are experiencing at this moment won’t do any good unless we use them for something bigger; unless we activate them into a movement.
In honor of the 16 times George Floyd exasperated, “I can’t breathe!” here are researched ways the supremacy of White America can help us catch our collective breaths and, ultimately, be revived in greater opportunities than ever before.
- Acknowledge your privilege. “White privilege is an institutional (rather than personal) set of benefits granted to people who, by race, resemble the those who dominate the powerful positions in our institutions,” according to Francis E. Kendall, Ph.D. Moreover, recognizing your privilege means de-weaponizing your race. Amy Cooper (the White woman in Central Park who called the cops on the Black man who asked that her dog be leashed) was very aware that her race would activate a response that could have at least criminal consequences for Christian Cooper.
- Check your language (and your friends). Use anti-racist as well as anti-oppressive language when referring to us. Speak up and challenge family and friends when they don’t do the same. Don’t be silent about racists or bigoted jokes. Silence is support. Sometimes you don’t have to say the N-word to make us feel like you are calling us one. Phrases like “Those/You people”, “You’re different”, “People like you/them” have a tendency to “other” us in categories that are offensive at best and condescending at the very least.
- Listen more, talk less. Unless you’re talking to each other about racism, open your ears and eyes to the experiences of Black people. Read books and watch movies/documentaries that are passports into our everyday encounters.
- Donate. Financial assistance is one of the most crucial ways to support people who are fighting against injustice. Initiatives such as #cut50 that focuses on legislative criminal justice policy reform (which disproportionately impacts Black men and women in jails and prisons) is one I can personally attest to being worth the investment.
- Support/Vote for Black candidates for office. Pew Research uncovered, “Many blacks view political representation as a potential catalyst for increased racial equality. Roughly four-in-ten black adults (38%) said that working to get more black people elected to office would be a very effective tactic for groups striving to help blacks achieve equality. Whites were less likely to view this as an effective way to bring about increased racial equality (24% said it would be very effective)” (emphasis added).
- Invest in Black start-ups. “African Americans have inarguably been among the most marginalized and discriminated-against of all racial and ethnic minority groups in the United States, and still, too often face inordinate barriers today — venture capitalists in the U.S. who espouse to care about diversity need to invest greater priority and dollars in black entrepreneurs.”
- Support Legislation. “Contact your state legislators and the governor to support state-wide criminal justice reform including reducing mandatory minimum sentences, reducing sentences for low-level drug crimes,” says Corinne Shutack in 75 Things White People Can Do for Racial Justice. Tell them you want clean “Clean Slate” types of legislation, which would effectively seal certain conviction records after a person stays crime-free for a period of time. This would almost immediately remove most of the 45 thousand collateral consequences of a conviction and unlock access to employment, vocational certification/licensure, post-secondary education, housing, and even LIFE INSURANCE.
“Clean Slate is about the American Dream — the belief that if you work hard, you should be able to get ahead. Those with criminal records — who have made mistakes, paid their debt to society, and now want to contribute — deserve that chance, too.”
8. Amplify Black voices amongst your networks. Share positive Black content on your social media platforms and commentary that demonstrates your support of whatever the corresponding issues are.
9. Shop with Black businesses and professionals. Beyond purchasing our music, actively seek out businesses that are Black-owned and patron them. Eat at Black restaurants. Collect Black art. Use a Black accountant. Open an account at a Black-owned bank. Hire Black consultants or contractors for your projects. Get a Black therapist. Go to a Black specialist. Be intentional about where how you invest your dollar and the impact doing so could have for Black sustainability.
10. Participate in reparations. Billionaire Robert Johnson proposed reparations for slavery to help reduce racial inequality. “Wealth transfer is what’s needed,” Johnson added. “Think about this. Since 200-plus-years or so of slavery, labor taken with no compensation, is a wealth transfer. Denial of access to education, which is a primary driver of accumulation of income and wealth, is a wealth transfer.” You can support incremental reparations by calling for and ensuring your black coworkers and employees are equitably compensated.
11. Disrupt the school-to-prison pipeline. African-American students are nearly four times as likely to be suspended from school as Caucasians. Think about that. Your child may demonstrate the same behavior four times before receiving discipline that my child gets the consequences for the first time!
The U.S. spends more on prisons and jails (80 billion dollars!) than it does on educating our children — and 15 states spend at least $27,000 more per prisoner than they do per student.
Furthermore, incarcerating parents leads to intergenerational trauma. Children of incarcerated adults are at greater risk for economic instability due to the loss of their family’s main income provider, and as a result, more often end up in foster care or homeless — both of which are significantly correlated to academic underperformance. The children of incarcerated parents are also more likely to find themselves incarcerated eventually, repeating the cycle.
12. Share your wealth, with individuals, not just nonprofits. Wealth sharing in this context is about what and who you know, not how much you can give. Your time, skills, connections, advice, mentorship, and partnership can be invaluable assets to our own enfranchisement.
13. Sign/Support #8cantwait. Visit 8CantWait.org to see if your town or city is committed to reforming its use of force practices. If not, contact your mayor, city council member, and police chief to demand changes to the current policies and practices.
14. Diversify your circle. You don’t get credit for not being a bigot just because you “know plenty of Black people.” It doesn’t work that way. What good is it that you “live next door to a Black family” if your only interaction with them is a superficial wave in passing? Actively seek out relationships for yourself and encourage the same of your children with Black people you have things in common with.
15. Stop using the N-word. Even if the word is in your favorite hip-hop song, buy the radio version! Prohibit your children from using it. Don’t sneak and say it when you are alone and rocking out. It is unacceptable, disrespectful, and the “They are saying it, why can’t I?” justification doesn’t make it appropriate.
16. Work on yourself. “All of us have biases and sometimes racism too. Learn to recognize when these come up and correct them,” Melinda Briana Epler poignantly notes.
We have a right now opportunity to rebuild our country; to be refounders of a new America. We have the opportunity to reinvigorate the spirit of the framers of this nation and (re) hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.
This is how we can lead. This is how we can grow. This is how we can rise up….without your foot on our necks.
