Do You See Now?
*This post originally appeared as a Facebook post on May 27, 2020 from Forrest Alton, President of 1000 Feathers. One month later, this message is still resonating with many so we wanted to make it accessible to a broader audience. Please bookmark this page as we will add to these thoughts over time.
Do you see?
I know you heard about it. You maybe even watched the video, but I’m asking a different question here.
We know the names Trayvon Martin, and Eric Garner, and Jordan Davis, and Michael Brown, and Tamir Rice, and Breonna Taylor, and Sandra Bland, and Laquan McDonald, and Freddie Gray, and Anton Sterling, and Nina Pop, and Tony McDade, and Ahmaud Arbery, and now George Floyd… and too many more to list… but do you see? For my white friends, please know it is not sufficient for us to ask “when will enough be enough” because the answer is inexplicably tied to our ability to see. In my opinion, that is what has been missing.
When the #BlackLivesMatter movement began, the immediate response was #AllLivesMatter, rather than an acknowledgment (in word and deed) that one is an absolute and necessary condition of the other. Because we did not see, it became a contest rather than an effort to make real progress.
When a Black man took a knee at a sporting event, we did not comprehend, even when he told us that, “I am not going to stand up to show pride in a flag for a country that oppresses Black people and people of color.” Because we did not see, this nonviolent protest became about the flag rather than the oppression.
As non-white children are being kept in cages on our southern border, it is being done for “our safety and security.” Because we did not see, we fell into a debate about laws and walls and ultimately weren’t able to have honest conversations about immigration reform and humanity. Speaking of cages, because we did not see we haven’t ever had a real conversation about the overwhelming racial disparities present in the criminal justice system.
Yet, when white, neo-Nazis showed up to protest in Charlottesville, we were told that “there were very fine people, on both sides.” And when white, armed gunmen stormed the capitol in Michigan, it’s because they were “American Patriots.” And on, and on, and on…
Do you see now?
My Black and brown friends are parents, and grandparents, and doctors, and lawyers, and professors, and CEOs, and business owners, and teachers, and coaches, and entrepreneurs, and authors. Actually, many are more than friends. They are mentors, and role models, and colleagues, and partners, and family. But, in this country, simply because of the color of their skin, they also are faced with daily struggles. Things I take for granted like driving over the speed limit (sorry mom), or interacting with law enforcement, or jogging, or wearing a hoodie, or buying a pack of gum are, by definition, more dangerous for my friends whose skin does not look like mine. My friends of color are faced with overcoming decades of systemic racism, economic inequality, health disparities (see: COVID), and racism, the depths of which I do my best to learn and study.
As a white man, I recognize I will never fully understand, but I see it. I am not afraid to say that I see it. In fact, I cringe when I hear people say “I don’t see color,” because to me—while you may mean well—saying this is synonymous with saying you are quite comfortable with the way things are; that part of your white privilege is being able watch the videos and read the stories without actually having to see them.
