By Victor C Kirk
I die in my sleep once a month now. Images of the killing of George Floyd at the hands of the police haunt me. I am a Black male in America in a state in the South residing in a city in a small rural town in the northeastern corner of the state. Up here the back woods were known to hide the scares on the bark of trees used for lynching. Trees containing “strange fruit” are all around us. I am also surrounded by communities of color exasperated by a failing economy and spend countless hours bombarded by news reports of one death after another of a Black male. Now I see another video of a senseless killing. A traffic stop becomes the common denominator in a human calculation that ends in death. Another video of a dehumanizing encounter representing the last moments of life of another Black male. This time he did not call out for his mom. He cried out in fear for his life, begged for mercy, apologized for getting the hell out of dodge, fleeing the inevitable, an encounter with the police. I wonder when he heard the sirens did, he “freak out”, knowing he was high as a kite and destined for an unforgettable encounter with the law. Perhaps he sped up knowing what it felt like to have an encounter with the law enforcement machinery in the south. I suspect if reports are correct that he was full of coke, he was aware that coming face to face with law enforcement in his state of mind, would not end well. And it did not.
He was punched, pepper sprayed, handcuffed, spread eagle on his belly, and beaten and drug while face down on the ground or pavement. He was bleeding and perhaps totally out of his mind. Most importantly, he was alone late at night surrounded by defenders of the right to bear arms – a group sworn to protect and serve, our men in blue. On this night, they did not.
I have a sense of his fear. Many of us have had an encounter with the police in some form or another. A traffic stop that called for an instinct to kick in. Place your hands on the steering wheel, keep your eyes down being careful to not display an emotion that is bubbling to get out of your body. You cannot let your annoyance surface for you have no idea why you are stopped but stopped you were. The officer moves slowly from his car and heads toward yours. Hand on his weapon seen clearly from your rear-view mirror. You remain still even though you know the first thing he wants is your drivers license, proof of insurance and registration papers. They are in your glove compartment, but you dare not lean to your right to get them. Too many of us made that move and lost our lives. The gesture of a familiar compliance act became fatal.
Let me stop for it is beginning to sound like I am a bit paranoid. But I am becoming more and more concerned not for my life but the impact moments of televised death during compliance will have on my grandson or granddaughter. He is two and she is five, but they are from my seed and my seed is awkward and reticent and flamboyant and augmentative and constantly questioning rules of authority. “Why” is my calling card and “you can’t be talking to me” is a phrase too often met with dismay. I am “Alberta’s” boy. The offspring of a hell raising mom who was the daughter of a hell raising mom. I have a hell raising daughter, so the link is complete – no guessing, confrontation is met face to face with confrontation. Measured mostly yet poised to pounce.
The life expectancy of a Black male is 71. I am at that age so I must be tinkering on the edge of non-existence. I can only pray that my offspring can put in perspective the killings of Black males or the awkwardness of endless reports of the loss of life of Black men. Even Dr. Henry Gates was not spared the dehumanizing moment of an arrest for tying to enter his own home. Even money and fame are not enough for us to elude the police’s inevitable presence in our lives as Black men. Will my grandson and granddaughter be able to insulate themselves from my experience or is to experience such like a genetic abnormality – there is something in the genes to propel a member of the minority community towards the encounter or that breeds an encounter with the police at some time in their lives.
Unfortunately, I am now wondering if there is a relationship between the killings and skin tone? Are lighter skinned Black males spared?
Let me stop while I am ahead.