I must admit that when I first heard of the events in Ferguson,Missouri, I did not experience anger or contempt, but instead, I became weary. As Fannie Lou Hammer asserted–I am sick and tired of being sick and tired. I know this particular type of exhaustion is unfamiliar to some, so let me be clear. I am tired of African American men being gunned down on American streets. I am tired of mothers teaching their sons to fear the police. I am tired of fear permeating every aspect of life for a person of color.
Perhaps I’m getting ahead of myself. Being Black in America is strange. You don’t feel different, but you know that you will be held to a different standard. It isn’t beyond my reasonable imagination to assume that Michael Brown grew up knowing he was different. I don’t claim to know the inner workings of his mind, but I can tell you he expected to live past August 9, 2014.
While I hate to parse a young man’s life down to a series of events, there are a few indisputable facts. On August 9, 2014, in Ferguson, Missouri, a police officer shot and killed an unarmed teenager named Michael Brown. The previous statement is the only thing we can be certain of. Some say Brown committed a robbery before he was stopped by Darren Wilson, the officer that ended his life. The only people who know exactly what happened aren’t talking (possibly because one of them is dead). A private autopsy at the family’s request found that Brown was shot six times. The fatal shot is believed to be one of two that entered his skull. The remainder of the shots were found in Brown’s arms. Eye witnesses say that Brown had his arms up in the universal sign of surrender, thus prompting the slogan, “hands up, don’t shoot.”
Immediately after the shooting, protesters began to make their grievances known in Ferguson and across the country. The protests were immediately confronted by the police in a manner that cannot be called anything but aggressive. Liberty, the very foundation of our republic is caught in friendly fire.
Why does Ferguson matter? Ferguson matters because it follows a disturbing trend. Michael Brown was not the first, and though I may be labeled a cynic, I will say he will not be the last. When I think of the future, I worry. Yes, it seems paranoid, but how can I not worry if any son I have will be Black? My son could be Michael Brown, Jordan Davis, Trayvon Martin or Eric Garner. How will I tell him he has to act, dress, and look a certain way and maybe, just maybe he won’t be killed? In a 2012 report of justifiable homicide the FBI found that a white police officer killed a black person nearly two times a week in the span of seven years. Of these homicides 18 percent were under 31 years of age. What does this statistic mean for Black people today? What does this mean for Black mothers raising children?
While Black mothers may not know the aforementioned statistics exactly, they have developed a set of rules on how to be Black in America. Every single one of those rules hinge on the same end goal: stay alive. While strange fruit seldom hang from today’s trees, young Black men are still victims. They are victims of a system that tells society that they are dangerous and for what good reason? There must be a solution. We can find the solution on the streets of Ferguson, New York City, Boston, and yes, even Greenville. The solution is the same now as it was in 1954. Make your voice heard. When the people speak, this leads to meaningful structural and social change. While marching and petitioning the government might seem passé to some and tiring to others, we cannot stop. No matter how tired we are of fighting systems of oppression, we can never stop. Because while this may be a secondary issue to many of us, injustice and terror still roam American streets, haunting its citizens on a daily basis. And so with our hands up, we march; because we can never stop.
