From a Black Man, To My Friend

On the morning of May 8, 2020, I began my day, as I usually do, by praying, reading, and exercising. For the exercise portion of my daily ritual, I decided to go for a jog in honor of a young Black Man who was running through a neighborhood, unarmed, committing no crime, yet killed. During the run, my mind was bombarded with many thoughts. Afterwards, I was compelled to write about my feelings as a 46-year-old Black Man who frequently runs through a community where very few of my neighbors look anything like me, or come from where I come from. I decided to leverage my Facebook page as the vehicle to articulate my thoughts. Here is my post from that morning: 

“Like many of you, I took to the streets in my neighborhood this morning for a 2.23 mile jog in honor of Ahmaud Aubrey’s birthday. I’ve lived in the same house for 20 years and I jog pretty regularly, not as much as I need to, but I’m regular. Do you know that I’ve had very strict rules for myself for the past 20 years? Here they are... Never run before the sun comes up or once the sun goes down. Always wear bright colors. Never run without a shirt. Always wear athletic clothes. Keep the music in my earbuds at a low volume, just so I can clearly hear the words, “stop or I’ll shoot.” On cool mornings, never wear a hoodie. As awkward as it is to carry, always have my identification on me. Never look at people as I pass, for fear of me intimidating them. Always look at people and smile as I pass, just so no one feels afraid. Contradiction, I know. I’ve been your child’s teacher; your city’s principal; and your county’s superintendent; and I NEVER go for a jog without feeling scared, feeling paranoid, and following these strict rules that I’ve created just so I can make it back home. Regardless of who you are, where you’re from, and what you believe, can we all agree that I should not have to feel this way while jogging? America... We are the greatest country on the planet and we have some persistent problems that just need to go away.”

The post received 189 comments; it was shared 282 times; and 894 people reacted to it. Most, if not all, of the responses were heartening. I felt heard. I felt like my friends, from all walks of life actually heard me. There was an overwhelming affirmation of the senseless killing of an unarmed Black Man and the fact that I should not have to feel this level of paranoia while jogging. 

On the morning of May 26, 2020, just over two weeks later, the reading portion of my daily ritual involved a scan of current events that come to me via my various news feeds. Here were the images that greeted me that morning:

In a matter of hours, after a weekend dedicated to celebrating an American Holiday to honor our brave women and men who died while serving in the U.S. military, I could not feel less American by what I was reading. In these events, my most prolific fears as a Black Man came to a crashing and hurtful reality. Everything I perceived about my ranking in America came true. Everything my father warned me about, and everything I warn my two black sons about, came true. I took zero pride in my life-long suspicions proving themselves accurate. I just became numb with additional fear because, and read my words carefully, these were not random and/or isolated incidents performed by otherwise good and fair-minded people. No. These acts were performed by people who felt empowered by four hundred years of, not perceived but real, constitutional, political, and social assumptions of superiority over Black Men. 

In the first three captions, you see incidents of white people engaged in some form of illegal activity. To avoid being held accountable for their crimes, they all wrongfully accused Black Men of some of the most horrific crimes we know of as a society (child abduction, attempted murder, and murder). In the fourth caption, you see the results of cops being called on a Black Man, not for child abduction, attempted murder, or murder, but for allegedly passing a counterfeit $20 bill. That Black Man was detained, restrained, subdued, had a knee planted in his neck for almost 9 minutes, as he pleaded for his life, and called for his deceased mother. He was subsequently killed, right there. The perpetrators were all cops. Being a 46-year-old Black Man myself and the father of two Black Men, ages 20 and 17, I pray you can appreciate why these American realities are so menacing to me.

As I compose this missive, I can hear the words in my head of my friend with opposing ideologies say, “Desmond… I agree with your feelings and the injustices you have described, but I could never condone rioting. I could never condone kneeling. All white people are not bad. All cops are not bad. You and anyone else who feels wronged, should practice the non-violent, and very peaceful, methods of protest exemplified by Dr. King.” 

To that I would respond, “Oh my dear and misguided friend… I never affirmed rioting as an appropriate response, nor have I condemned all white people or all cops. As for kneeling, I will come back to that.” I would proceed to remind my friend that Dr. King also said, “Riot is the language of the unheard.” I’d also let it be known to my friend, who obviously and painfully did not retain everything from our high school American History class, that for his non-violent means of advocating for the just rights of all people, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was stoned, beaten, bitten by dogs, spat upon, jailed, and assassinated. 

Back to kneeling. There’s a perverse twist of hypocrisy related to the condemnation of kneeling. The act was silent, peaceful, and non-violent. In fact, I can’t think of a more non-threatening gesture than for a Black Man to drop down to one knee. He knelt during the playing of the National Anthem in protest of, and to bring attention to, excessive police brutality inflicted upon Black Men. His silent, peaceful, and non-violent protest was considered an atrocity of epic proportion. He was criticized, ostracized, and expelled from the National Football League.

Sticking with the historical perspective, and in honor of Independence Day (July 4th) which is quickly approaching us, I would remind my friend of some additional truths. On July 4,1776, thirteen American colonies declared independence from British control. This act was done during the American Revolution which spanned 1765 to 1783. Poignant word, Revolution. The act of revolting. This revolt grew into the Boston Massacre (1770), the Gaspee Affair (1772), and the Boston Tea Party (1773), just to name a few. Yes, the very fabric of these United States of America was sown together by a thread of acts that were not silent. They were not peaceful. They were not non-violent. 

At this point in the conversation, I imagine my dear friend saying, “Desmond... I get it. Your fears centered on being a Black Man in America are legit. As your fellow American, I want to be part of the solution. What can I do?” 

In a voice demonstrating my sincere appreciation, I would say, “It’s not a matter of what you can do or what I can do, but rather what we can do together. I mean let’s tear down the manufactured walls of separation and perceived ill-will between us. Let’s not apply stereotypes to each other because I’m black and you’re white; I’m straight and you’re gay; I’m liberal and you’re conservative; I’m male and you’re female; I pray to Jesus and you don’t. To be clear, we are not the same. We are very different, but that is okay. Let’s celebrate our differences, but more importantly let’s form a union around our commonalities. We both believe in the promises articulated in our Constitution. Neither one of us wants the government to be overly controlling of our daily lives. We both want our children to grow up together in safe communities where firm, fair policing is evident and schools actually work. We both believe in the power of voting so let’s work together to get all eligible citizens registered to vote and actively participating in the political process. Speaking of voting, let’s replace blind partisanship with a commitment to electing people who represent our common interests instead of exploiting our differences.”  

My friend, this represents my DREAM for the two of us. Oh yeah, we should have this talk again!!!

Sincerely,

Black Man

About the Author. Desmond K. Blackburn, Ph.D, is Chief Executive Officer (CEO) of New Teacher Center (NTC). NTC is a national non-profit organization dedicated to disrupting the predictability of educational inequities by supporting all educators, from the classroom to the boardroom. Prior to joining NTC in 2018, he spent twenty-two years as a Math Teacher, Assistant Principal, Principal, Director of School Improvement, Area Superintendent, Chief of School Performance & Accountability, and Superintendent. He can be reached at [email protected].