After George Floyd: What Do We Do Now

Just in case you missed this a few months ago, I'm reposting my article. These are some of my thoughts on how we move forward with the social injustice and the blind eyes America wants to have when dealing with, talking about, and creating sustainable action for police brutality and systematic racism perpetrated on Black America from the start. The struggle is far from being over.

By Desmond Clark

I have never vandalized a building and I don’t agree with it. But I understand the people who do.

It’s not about violence. It’s not about critical thinking. It’s not about, even, specifically George Floyd, or the cop that killed him, who was rightfully arrested. The building burns down because there is an unsaid, but known, struggle between the police and the US justice system, and the members of the Black community. Floyd’s death amplified, like a textbook example, that struggle.

The cop felt he could kneel on Floyd’s neck for nine minutes, not to restrain him (he was restrained), not because Floyd was a threat to him (or anyone else), but because the cop wears an innate, but false, feeling of superiority—and Floyd, representative of many youths stop-and-frisked at NYC subway stations for several decades, just has to take it.

That knee means, you’re inferior, and I’m more powerful than you. And every minute reiterates the dynamic.

Floyd’s death hurts this nation so much, particularly the Black community, because it makes visible what is obvious to Black people on a day to day basis--but White people needed to see it this clearly. There is, now, finally, no other explanation. There is no Michael Brown reaching into a cop car, here. There is no fuzzy information. A story about past robberies. About talking back to the police.

This is a man kneeling on someone’s neck until it killed him, not because he was obligated by duty, or fear, or any of the stories that muddy previous situations. This is a man kneeling on a man’s neck because he chose to, and he chose to because it makes him feel superior and powerful.

That’s why they vandalize and burn down buildings. Because it makes them feel in power.

Again, I’m not saying it’s right. I’m only saying I understand. It gives the disenfranchised, the downtrodden, the ones who this country, and its judicial system, has exhibited no mercy toward, the feeling of wielding power.

Chauvin, the officer, had no more legal right to execute Floyd as any one of the agitators have to burn down a building. But when I think about what it takes to bring us together—to bring Black, and White, America together—it won’t just be legislative—the law is a guardrail. To really drive together on the same road it’s going to take a look into the soul of every person in the nation.

White, and Black, America—both— will need to ask if they have a relationship with the feeling of false power. And be honest about the answers. And then we will need to do something with those answers.

For the record—neither the man with his knee on his neck, nor the man with a Molotov cocktail in a storefront, have real power. But real power—the right of free choices—of self-direction—of economic opportunity—those things are inherent in our nation’s promise. The superiority complex and false power, on all sides, interrupts that real power, and complicates, what isn’t very complicated.

Here it is in a nutshell: Black Americans don’t (often or always) feel this country loves them.

There are four steps, as I see it, to coming together to heal the past, and bridge us into a more complete, more healthy, nation.

1. Acknowledgment/Apology/Forgiveness.

a. There is a reason a child is asked to apologize to a person when the child runs them over with their tinker-toy bicycle. Mothers know this. Humans know it instinctually. No, nothing can be done about it now, but it means we man-up enough to admit we were wrong.

1. Slavery has left a stain on America. It just has. You know it and I know it, I won’t explain it here. Through education and sports primarily, I’ve created opportunity for me and my family. So I know, I do, that Black people, now, in this country, have the ability to earn, to participate economically, to take advantage of their legally-given freedom—and I also know that even though that is true, it would go a hell of a long way for this country to recognize and apologize for the wrong that was done to our ancestors.

2. Even though progress has been made, the acknowledgment and apology is necessary. No- USA, no—you can’t slip slavery under the rug. It doesn’t need to ruin the country, to admit it; but it tells you a heck of a lot about yourself when you can’t admit a mistake. If we don’t want it to rip us apart, then recognize and apologize for it.

3. Like the child with the tinker-toy tricycle, the apology says, at its base, that the society has reflected on a wrong-doing, and will grow from it.

2. Acknowledging Lost Time

a. The Black community has been set back for centuries. First by law, then by social design—some of that design, also, unlawful (redlining). We have also been set back by lawful circumstances. For instance, so long as schools are funded with property tax money, the Black and poorer communities will never get a strong enough education to compete with the more affluent.

b. Of course, some will excel, and sneak through—I did, I went to college, I did well in life; but, the vast majority will live at the opportunity of their education, and the education will be as good as the money that goes into it. Therefore the experience will be limited.

c. As I see it, on a policy level, there are two fundamental drivers that hold the Black community back.

1. Poor education

2. Poor economic opportunity

3. Making Up for Lost Time

a. When I think of reparations, I think of them in the areas listed above. I don’t know the exact policies, but things that come to mind: a more equitable distribution of real estate tax dollars to fund public schools— excellent teachers require excellent pay, and produce excellent students—and we need teachers with the breadth of experience to prepare our students for life. Let our children learn how the economy works, and begin that understanding in school.

b. And, as a matter of business development—the largest driver of Black growth will be Black businesses. It is for other ethnicities. It will be for us.

c. Money gets filtered into the society by a bank; and the bank wants only one thing—which is to get its money back with interest. Give us an opportunity to succeed or fail just like any other small business entrepreneur.

1. Therefore, black businesses need to be started—and that’s on us. We need ideas (therefore the education) that solve problems. With those ideas—get them funded, and pay everybody—the banks, the employees, the owners—get bought out by venture capital ten years later. Rinse, repeat.

2. This is as much a mindset issue as it is an economic one. We are ourselves, quick to say that banks won’t give us loans and this is true in some cases. Some won’t. Go to another bank. Go to every bank. If the government wanted to help out, there could be an SBA-PPP-type lending guarantee to make the banks more comfortable when the ideas and business plans are good, but the credit and start-up funding isn’t golden. We don’t want a handout we want an opportunity.

d. Current businesses can play a role—but not “diversity hires” and “harassment training” sessions. Listen to me—Black people don’t want a handout, nor false kindness. We do want real opportunity—and real, therefore, training. Allow us to enroll in corporate training and learn new skills and become business leaders on merit alone. There is a difference between an opportunity to learn and grow, and a diversity hand-out. We aren’t interested in handouts.

4. Acknowledging False Superiority and Power

a. People who really have power don’t need to wield it.

b. Mahatma Gandhi was so powerful he led by sitting. An entire nation sat with him. Martin Luther King led by marching. That is real, true power. False power is physically, or economically, kneeling on someone’s neck. True power is in alignment with this country’s values, God’s law, and the laws of the universe. True power has no real enemy except false-ones.

c. So if there is an emotional need to hold a Black person down with a knee on his neck for nine minutes, that’s not power. That’s weakness disguised with a gun and a uniform. And like all weaknesses, it should be exposed, discussed, and a system put in place to iterate it.

d. And if there is a false-power reaction to that. Hate. Burning buildings. It’s understandable but unhelpful. It should be exposed, discussed, and a system put in place to iterate it.

1. These conversations need to happen at police academies, in the halls of congress, in every school in our nation. And when someone speaks from false superiority and power, therefore weakness, it needs to be examined—not, as is so often true—accepted as an opinion and simply moving on.

2. Calling it out isn’t enough. It isn’t. We must investigate it, really understand where false superiority and false power come from and iterate—grow through it. We, the people of this nation, need these discussions, and we need to come out on the other side of this.

3. The true answer to these difficulties is emotional. And we’ve got to start those conversations in very real ways.

e. The Black community will also require emotionally intelligent, empathetic, but fair, policing.

1. Those cops and the policies of the nation/state/local municipalities that govern them will need to keep the streets safe and the drugs off the corners and out of the schoolyards. Yes, we need those cops to do that. We need them to keep our children safe, and our schools safe, and the pathway to and from school safe.

2. The trick is how that is done. We can’t keep the streets safe with false-power. Stop and Frisk and racial profiling proved that. We need the cops and the policies of this nation/state/local municipalities to understand that when the cops keep the streets safe, they’re doing it out of growing devotion to a community.

I believe that in here lies, not only the healing of a community, but potentially the healing of a nation—and, perhaps most meaningfully—for every person of this nation—the healing of ourselves.