Reflections on George Floyd and Too Many Others

"Hate begets hate; violence begets violence; toughness begets a greater toughness. We must meet the forces of hate with the power of love."

For some reason, today, the wise words of Dr. King feel unsettling for me to quote. They were spoken so many years ago—and they hold so much truth—but decades and decades have gone by and things seem to have gotten worse, not better. Our pains haven’t been alleviated; they’ve grown exponentially. Dr. King is right, we must meet the power of hate with love; but now, more than ever, we must do more than love, we must act.  

Many of us are stuck inside, due to the pandemic that has affected our entire world. COVID, something so small, something we can’t even see, has uprooted much of what we know and take for granted. The truth is that another virus—systemic and pervasive injustice, prejudice, and hatred, that exists for so many, too many—is now also uprooting our cities and our hearts. Unlike COVID, it’s been eating away at us for far too long.

I am not Black. I cannot possibly understand (and will never understand) the pain and suffering that folks from these communities are feeling right now and have felt for centuries. I cannot understand the anguish and fear that Black Americans feel in their hometowns every single day just because of the colour of their skin. It’s terrifying, heartbreaking, and is long overdue for change.

And maybe what scares me the most (and what is perhaps the most dangerous) is that people are surprised that racism and prejudice “still exists”. Of course it still exists! I was born with so much privilege: in Canada, in an upper middle-class home, with strong, grounding parents, and food on the table. And yet, I’ve felt it. I’m a Muslim and a Person Of Colour so, of course I’ve felt it. No matter my level of education or hard work, I’ve felt it too many times. Let’s be clear: I am blessed to have it as good as I have, but this toxic, eroding plague exists in Vancouver and across Canada, not just in the United States.

It’s sad, but we all know the names: George Floyd. Tamir Rice. Freddie Grey. Michael Brown. Eric Garner. Trayvon Martin – the list goes on. But there are thousands more whose names we’ll never know.

So, how can this time be different? Quarantine and the Coronavirus has taught us that change is possible, that as societies we can come together and live differently (even if we don’t want to). We can have discipline. We can change.

That change begins within each of us with introspection and dialogue. Introspection of our own closely held biases; acknowledgement that too many of us feel things or hold views that we are too guilty to admit to out loud. Dialogue that makes us uncomfortable; dialogue with our family and friends, with our colleagues and our elected officials—regardless of whether we agree with them or not, especially if we don’t.

The change must also start with accepting that a true democracy, a pluralistic democracy, necessitates that we must not only accept differences, but celebrate them. Dialogue and differences of opinion make us stronger; they make our cities better and our communities more vibrant. We cannot (and should not) be a homogenized voice. It’s not only unrealistic but unbecoming of the beauty of our democracies and the strength of the ideas on which we’ve built our societies. 

We can’t afford to wait any longer; beyond introspection and dialogue, there are things we can each do, right now: we can read more about the painful history of African Americans in America; we can listen to music reflecting the struggles of people of color; we can watch documentaries; we can support local Black and POC owned business; we can donate to organizations fighting against racism or injustice; and we can vote, we must vote, for candidates who share in a vision for change and peace and truth. It is only by opening our eyes that we can truly open our minds and begin this long journey towards real progress.

Maybe, just maybe, this is the moment that changes everything—but it won’t happen without long, hard work. We are here for the work. Maybe, just maybe, collectively, soon, but not soon enough, we will all be able to take a breath. The breath that George Floyd, heartbreakingly, couldn’t.