How do you see me? How do you truly see me?
This is a question that has been running through my mind all week. I subscribe to a law of love and the gospel of peace. I stand on the shoulders of Nelson Mandela, Martin Luther King Jr., Fred Shuttlesworth, and so many more. Yet, this week has been one full of sadness, anger, and a whole lot of self-reflection.
I am black. I am a black man. At my core, this is all I can ever be.
It is how my Creator chose to form me in his image, and all I can ever do is live my life through the fullness of His grace.
The events of this past week have left me conflicted. People of color all over our nation are protesting for the right to be on an equal footing. The right to be given the benefit of the doubt. I see the pain in their eyes and carry their heart…the same heavy heart…that has grown both weary and numb.
The numbness for Eric. The numbness Sandra. The numbness for Bothem. The numbness for the Charleston Nine. The numbness for Amaud, Christian, and George. They are my fathers. My mothers. My sisters. My brothers. They are the direct evidence of the disparity of treatment within our country.
I understand and share the pent-up frustration. The need to explode like Langston’s dream deferred. However, quite frankly, I cannot reconcile our shared laboring with the looting and physical destruction of our city. On May 31, 2020, many peaceful protests were held across our city. Nevertheless, it was the aftermath of violence and destruction that received the most widespread attention.
Dr. King, a man who chose our streets as the central monument to his movement, taught us that nonviolent protests are “a courageous confrontation of evil by the power of love.”
Thus, tribulations must be addressed at their core. The evils of this world should be the primary subject of our opposition. At our most basic human element, agape love and understanding are the only vehicle that can transport us to the brighter days we all seek.
If it worked for Nelson, Mahatma, and Martin, it can work for us.
The perpetrators of violence and destruction damaged and vandalized both white and minority-owned businesses. They are not representative of Birmingham and its residents who yearn for reconciliation. Nor do they represent the dream of Dr. King or the ideals of our city, the city council, and Mayor Randall Woodfin.
Just as it was during the Civil Rights movement, the spotlight is on Birmingham once again. We must show the world we are better than that. Darkness cannot drive out darkness.
Our generation can no longer sit on the sidelines - it’s time for us to take control of the narrative. We must be intentional with our actions and conversations. We cannot be content with the apathetic responses to the wrongs and pains being suffered every - single - day. These “winters of delays” noted by Dr. King instill a quiet fear of the unknown and a false sense of comfort with the status quo.
This uphill battle will not be won alone. This can’t be just a black thing. It can’t be just a white thing. It won’t happen overnight. We must walk hand-in-hand with brothers and sisters of all colors and creed for any semblance of hope to permeate the walls dividing us.
So I ask you: invest in me, trust in me, nurture me - as I do the same for you.
I challenge you to get out of your comfort zone and have the unsettling conversations. Ask your friends of color questions. Try and understand their hurt and frustration. Engage. This is not a Democrat or Republican issue. I could not care less what side of the aisle your politics may lie.
This goes beyond a Facebook post, a Twitter retweet, or sharing an Instagram story and then calling it a day. This is a lifelong process - how are you contributing to an answer? What are you doing to take an active role in the conversation? How is your circle of mentors and friends reflective of the change you wish to see in America?
In the midst of all this turmoil, I find solace in the words of Nelson Mandela’s Long Walk to Freedom: “I am fundamentally an optimist. Whether that comes from nature or nurture, I cannot say. Part of being optimistic is keeping one’s head pointed toward the sun, one’s feet moving forward. There were many dark moments when my faith in humanity was sorely tested, but I would not and could not give myself up to despair. That way lays defeat and death.”
Attorney at Burr & Forman LLP