A few weeks ago, DeRay Mckesson, a prominent figure in the #BlackLivesMatter movement visited the campus of The Taft School, where I'm currently stationed. Another student here, Sumi Kim, and I each wrote an article about #BlackLivesMatter for The Papyrus, the student-run news publication at Taft. Unfortunately, due to spacing issues, these articles were not able to published in their entirety. But I have a blog.
Sumi.
Sumi.
Black lives matter.
It’s a simple slogan, only three words long. Yet those three words are among the most controversial phrases one can encounter today.
The words are relevant. The words are straightforward. And above all, the words are misunderstood. The meaning behind them is twisted from mouth to mouth; they support black-supremacy, they promote racism, they hate the police, they highlight discrimination, they advocate equality. With all these wildly different interpretations circulating around the public, the meaning of the movement becomes subject to the preconceived notions held by the person who encounters it.
The “Black Lives Matter” movement began as a response to the murder of Trayvon Martin by neighborhood watch guard George Zimmerman in Miami Gardens, Florida. 17-year old unarmed Trayvon was fatally shot by Zimmerman as he was walking back from a convenience store, because Zimmerman felt Trayvon was “suspicious”. Since then, the movement has spread across the nation, growing in popularity as increasing numbers of black lives have been unjustly taken by police. The hashtag #Blacklivesmatter was even named the 2014 word of the year by the American Dialect society.
The actual heart of the “Black Lives Matter” movement is racial equality. There is no way to disguise it; in America, African Americans are still subjected to institutionalized racism. It is no miscalculation that 80% of people pulled over by police in New York City are either black or Latino. It is no miscalculation that even though anonymous surveys conducted by the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People have reported that five times as many more white people do drugs than black people, the rate at which African-Americans are reported for drug offenses is ten times more than white. It is no miscalculation that white people are more likely to be hired, to be paid more, or to get away with criminal activity. “Black lives matter” goes beyond responding to police brutality, despite its original intentions; as stated on the official website, “We are committed to collectively, lovingly and courageously working vigorously for freedom and justice for Black people and, by extension all people.”
Contrary to popular beliefs, the movement does not promote black supremacy, or justify killing cops, or justify attacking white people. "Black lives matter" is not saying, "Only black lives matter." Of course, all lives matter and no one race is superior over the other. That is clear in many ways, from the United Nation’s “Universal Declaration of Human Rights” to the principles of the Founding Fathers: life, liberty, and equality. All lives matter, but not all lives are subject to the same prejudice as African Americans are. The amount of backlash that a movement simply highlighting the racial inequality in America has received is evidence enough that all lives are not yet equal.
Despite the simple purpose of the “Black Lives Matter” movement, I have no doubt that some readers are going to come across this article, see its title, and simply skip it due to their preconceived notions of the movement. I’m not saying that the root of the prejudice against Black Lives Matter stems from nowhere; like in every movement, there are extremists. Everyday lives of innocent civilians have been interrupted, property has been looted and damaged, and cops have been killed in retaliation. However, the majority of the people involved with the movement protest peacefully and denounce these violent acts. It is these few radicals that give “Black Lives Matter” a bad connotation that dissuades people from delving deeper into the movement. Even within our Taft community, many students had not been as exposed to the true intentions of the movement before DeRay McKesson spoke during morning meeting, and were pleasantly surprised at his simple yet powerful words.
The movement itself is doing everything it should to be an effective catalyst for social change; the abundant, mistaken prejudice of people who are uneducated about its intentions is one of the only things inhibiting the movement from widespread success. Therein lies the biggest problem facing the campaign: how is “Black Lives Matter” ever going to be effective if people are immediately turned away based on the connotation that surrounds it? How is it ever going to change America if people take one look at those three words and turn their eyes away?
The success of “Black Lives Matter” thus falls onto our generation. It is we who must spread this message of equality and justice. It is we who must educate those unaware of the racial problems still plaguing America. It is up to us, as Taft students, to take advantage of the privilege we have and help our peers.
It’s been 150 years since slavery was abolished in America and yet racial inequality and ignorance are still present in our society. Our generation should be the one to finally end this discrimination, and the “Black Lives Matter” movement is the opportunity we should be taking. It’s time for us to seize it.
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| Image Source: everyvoice.org |
Tawanda.
Every
morning, the fresh and green winds of New England awaken them. This wind is the
freedom of America itself, as are the possibilities inherent in each gleaming
classroom; all gateways to a future that their parents told them could only be
fought for- never given. Yet every time they walk into a classroom they can
feel their foreignness, the strangeness of their skin being in such privileged
space. To be black at Taft is to know the greatest irony of America: freedom
for all, where all is few. White privilege, says Aaron Dillard ’16, is ‘white
people not having to worry about being white.’ Being black, however, means
being the only student of colour in an English class studying ‘The Adventures
of Huckleberry Finn.’ Even in places of great opportunity such as Taft, men and
women of colour encounter ‘the struggle.’ The unexplainable discomfort around
people who ‘bump your stuff but won’t love your people’ who also tell you that
‘you’re really beautiful for an African girl.’
And
then there’s the people who ask, “Why not #AllLivesMatter?”
The
social movement #BlackLivesMatter has
been met with only half-opened arms. Republican Presidential Candidate Ted Cruz recently stated that its name is
‘literally suggesting and embracing and celebrating the murder of police.’
Meanwhile, 2015 shows one of the lowest numbers of murdered police officers in
decades, and the movement has now become both more organized and more
decentralized. The key word here is ‘more.’ Since BLM started, police brutality
against black Americans has not ceased. Trayvon Martin. Michael Brown. Eric
Garner. Tamir Rice. Freddie Gray. That’s just the men. When one of the leaders
of BLM, DeRay McKesson visited Taft, he sparked both interest and controversy.
His speech brought to the surface issues of race at Taft. Not only that, but it
seems like they’re here to stay and be discussed, even outside the classroom.
Before
we go on any further, let it be made explicit that this is an article about the
social movement #BlackLivesMatter and
how it relates to being black at Taft.
It is not an article against white Americans, nor is it an article about hating
the police. However, as both of those bodies are inextricably tied to the matter
of black lives they ought to be discussed. ‘Why not #AllLivesMatter?’ Because,
as the popular Taft saying goes, there’s
more than one perspective. Let us
recognize this contradiction: ‘all’ in America is not inclusive, for all lives
do not, in fact, matter in this country.
One
of the biggest things that were emphasized to me before coming to America from
Botswana, besides the perennial sleeplessness of prep schools, was that I ought
to be prepared for discovering that my skin isn’t just something I was born
with. I was told various horror stories, ranging from the comic to the tragic.
Not too long after it hit me that I was actually coming here, that Taft
physically exists and isn’t some strange abstraction, I started staring at my
hands and wondering if there was anything wrong with them. My mother warned me
often about the police.
‘I
don’t think a white person understands the struggle,’ says Ismatou Bah
’16. She goes on to say that maybe they
can understand ‘95%’ or ‘99%’ of it. But never entirely. This instantly reminds me of all the times
back home I’d been called a coconut: white on the inside, black on the outside.
If I’ve only just recently started staring at my hands, how much can I say I
really know about the chaos of being black in America? Can I relate with Makari
Chung’s ’16 exasperation when she asks, ‘Why is my hair such a phenomenon?’
When I stepped out of JFK, did I feel, as many black people in this country do,
like a ‘target to be hated’?
Explaining
the issue of race in this country often gives people more questions than
answers. And while my experiences are not, as of yet, as explicit as those of
the men and women of colour in this country, I can wholeheartedly affirm
that racism in this country does exist. If you doubted before, then there is no
longer any reason. I offer none of the biases of America, white or black. I
simply tell you, as an unabashed foreigner, that the question of ‘Why not
#AllLivesMatter?' is easy enough to answer if one pays a reasonable amount
of attention to anything in this country.
Have you been paying attention?
Have you been paying attention?
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| DeRay Mckesson speaking at Taft Image Source: taftphotos.com |
