A Year On: A Letter to My Brown Son
Today marks a year since a tragic event took place. In May of last year, a Black man named George Floyd was slowly and callously killed by a white police officer in front of a grocery store in Minnesota. Floyd was the age of your playmate, Gianna – she could have been your friend. I know he wouldn't have chosen this path for the sake of racial justice, to leave his daughter traumatized and fatherless, as a politician put it. Sometimes, when I look at your beautiful face, the thought of that little girl fills my heart with sorrow.
Keith Magee
My dearest son, you entered my life seven years ago as a gift from God. You are energetic, curious, filled with confidence, beginning to worry, yet trusting others easily. People speak of being lucky to live in a country where dreams can come true, and I hope that's the case for you too. However, being born with brown skin still carries a burden in America, a weight that is tough to bear. I pray every day for the strength to help you bear this load, to make you proud of yourself and teach you ways to navigate the visible and invisible currents of racism.
The most crucial thing is to protect you. Many children shouldn't know this, but when you start to venture outside our loving bubble, you'll encounter people who may judge you based on the color of your skin. Some of them will even swear to protect and serve you, yet they'll be armed.
We are descendants of the trans-Atlantic slave trade. Over four hundred years ago, enslaved Africans were transported here in chains, forced to steal land from the Indigenous people. Since then, people of color have fought, not just for freedom, but for equality. You might not realize it yet, but you carry the trauma of these struggles within you, just like me. Many generations of our ancestors didn't live to see the fruits of their labor, but sometimes, tragedies so shocking happen that spark lasting change. Sadly, most often, those changes are brought about by taking another person's life, like you.
In 1955, a 14-year-old Black boy named Emmett Till was brutally beaten and murdered by two white men in Mississippi. It was your birthday – August 28 – when the teenager was accused of insulting a white woman in a grocery store. Decades later, the woman admitted her accusation was a lie. Pictures of Till's disfigured face shocked America and fueled the civil rights movement.
The lynching of Emmett Till ignited my grandmother's lifelong journey of antiracist activism through protest and journalism. She was the first to acknowledge that it wasn't enough. Since Till's lynching, countless innocent lives have been lost or ruined due to racial hatred.
Unlike in your favorite movies, where good always triumphs over evil, in real life, evil often wins. Despite a Black man being killed by law enforcement, George Floyd's killer, Derek Chauvin, had an unusual amount of bad luck. He was caught and prosecuted. Indeed, it's a rarity when such a case sees its perpetrator brought to justice.
However, one person's guilt cannot carry the weight of the numerous instances of police brutality against Black and Brown people, then or now. The fact that Chauvin was found guilty does not absolve him of the past, present, or future incidents of police brutality. Nor does it reverse centuries of systemic racism or bring George Floyd or other victims back to their grieving families.
The nature of police work in America often mirrors the racism and divisions that persist in society. The fact that many police officers continue to treat people like us with hate and fear is no surprise. Regardless of the number of "bad apples" we detain, install body cameras in police departments, or overhaul police training, it isn't enough. We must address the root of the problem – the inequity ingrained in the police force.
It's my fervent hope that, as you grow into an adult, you'll look back on the murder of George Floyd and Emmett Till not just as a moment of outrage, but as a turning point towards true equality. Sadly, I fear that the potential for unity might be lost if our generation doesn't act now against racism and its devastating consequences.
"We urgently need honest national conversations about our country," before we can come to terms with the past and move forward. Despite the challenges, models like the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission show that it is possible for such conversations to happen.
In the meantime, local and national legislators should convene citizen assemblies or charrettes that bring together demographically representative groups from American communities to discuss and analyze critical contemporary issues influenced by race – like law and order, education, and voting rights. This would give people of all political and social backgrounds a common ground and the opportunity to suggest policies that legislators can then implement to eradicate racial inequality.
If you and your allies continue this work, your children and grandchildren could live in a nation where real justice is cherished rather than just a dream. All police officers would see people like us as someone to protect and serve, not someone to oppress.
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Healing will mean allowing Black and Brown people to grow up free from the shackles of racial trauma, feeling safe instead of fearing for their lives whenever they interact with the police. Being Brown should not mean lesser access to adequate healthcare and education, lack of financial security, or less respect. The pipeline from school to prison, which currently plagues our poorest and darkest communities, would be dismantled, and all young people would have hope for a better future. No one should judge another person less because of their skin color.
I believe that this transformation will take decades, but if George Floyd's cruel death means anything, it's that change starts now. Let Americans unite towards this goal, holding each other accountable until we achieve it.
Coretta Scott King, the powerful widow of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., once said, "Freedom is a never-ending process – each generation strives to achieve and inherit it." For you, Zaden, I pray that our generation rises to the challenge.
Your Father
