I Can’t Breathe: Why George Floyd Embodies All Black Men
While enjoying some family time on our deck on Saturday, I began to observe my family. My husband and son sat quietly chatting with each other, unaware that I was watching and photographing them. Within the comfortable nest that my husband and I built for our family, these two black American males, my loves, were at peace, happily enjoying a sunny afternoon. From the outside looking in, this equates to the American dream. Tranquility, calm and assurance that you’re safe within the walls and the land that you call home.
My husband, a 21 year military veteran has purposefully and dutifully served his country. My son, a bright eyed, well mannered, respectful six year old, who is playful and inquisitive but also helpful and kind. These two black males who I know and love, would likely give you the shirt off their backs. My husband, who has seen a female driver with a flat tire and put on her spare, my son who was praised by a special needs child’s mom, for always helping to care for her son and get him ready to leave the daycare when she picked him up, are not safe in this alleged great America.
I watch them carefully. Many stereotypes of what they should be or could be, already deadened. A present father, who is God fearing, successful in his own right, married, homeowner, veteran, college graduate and overall stand up guy is a threat outside of the sanctity of our home. My son, who leads with his name, Chiefton or Chief for short, frowns on bullying, questions why people hurt others, doesn’t understand why people have an incessant rage towards law enforcement. My son, who has surpassed the 99th percentile for height and weight since he was born, is tall and solid and will eventually go from cute to threat.
The thoughts that I have watching my family interact are deafening. I hold this man and this child in the highest regard because I know their hearts and their spirits but I also know their qualities can be and will often be disregarded because of the color of their skin.
Yesterday was the first time I watched the full video of George Floyd’s arrest and subsequent murder. I didn’t want to watch it because I knew that I would be emotional and I was. There on the ground, was my husband, my son, my nephews, my cousins, my friends. We are watching someone being ruthlessly killed by a police officer, who is as cavalier and relaxed, as someone doing yoga in his backyard and who is totally devoid of human decency.
What we watched with George Floyd is what we’ve seen with Ahmaud Arbery, Trayvon Martin, Breonna Taylor, Eric Garner, Rodney King and countless others, a lack of regard for the life of another human. There have been a slew of chants that are derived after these senseless deaths, “hands up, don’t shoot,” “can’t we all just get along,” “we run with Ahmaud” and the poignant, ” I can’t breathe!”
I can’t breathe!
In the midst of a pandemic, where the color of Covid has been overwhelmingly black and brown and the loss of life and employment has been substantial, we see footage of a young black man losing his life at the hands of white men, for exercising. We are then presented with law enforcement, those who have sworn to protect and serve, once again disregarding pleas for the simplest of human requests, AIR! People don’t understand why the protests have turned violent but black people don’t understand why they’re denied the elementary human right to breathe, to live, to return to their families and not be put in a casket.
George Floyd belongs to us, not by blood or relation but by community. He was our brother. When we see him pleading for air, we see our spouses. When we watch him calling out for his mother, we see our sons. When we watch him die on the pavement, we see our ancestors and we need hundreds of years of justice because we are tired of continuous social injustice, discrimination, racism, division and fear. We are tired of knees in our necks whether figuratively or literally. We are tired of wondering if our lives will end over an alleged twenty dollar bill, a toy gun, being at home, a routine traffic stop, being accused of anything illegal, walking home from the store and for merely existing.
Artwork courtesy of Nikkolas Smith
As I watch these two heartbeats of mine, laze around and enjoy each other’s company, I pray to God for them, for my people and for those who see skin color as a barrier not only to the content of ones character but also their right to oxygen. There needs to be change in this country and I hope that seeing the way in which people are protesting for George, without ceasing, will be the catalyst.
*Cover artwork courtesy of Octavia D. Mason @octaviadmason
Nadalie Bardo
<3 Sending love your way! I'm right with you, I see him and so many others and I see myself, I see my loved ones, I see my ancestors.
Mimi
I can’t even imagine how much fear you might have, I wasn’t able to watch the entire video it sickened me so much but I’m doing my best to educate myself and sharing what I find. It still feels like not enough, I wish I could be in the streets and I wish I could donate more.
Heather
I hope that we can continue to fight and learn and grow as people. No one deserves to be pre-judged based on how they look. I hope that this is only the beginning of true change and equality.
Carissa
Great Read! I’m right here with you as I looked at my husband and son laying on the couch together! This has touched home for a lot of us, and really seeing someone murdered in the open like George Floyd should’ve hit home for everyone. I hate that it has to be under these circumstances but I absolutely LOVE that we are finally seeing some people open their eyes to what’s going on in the world!
Monica
This was so beautifully written. So raw, so real. Thank you for sharing what’s on your heart. I do see change! I have hope!