Justice for George Floyd and Us All: The Measure and Meaning of the Verdict
But in spite of this coming together of these factors to yield this important victory, let’s not imagine it’s more than it is. It is a major victory, but a single victory.
But in spite of this coming together of these factors to yield this important victory, let’s not imagine it’s more than it is. It is a major victory, but a single victory.
We move through February and March to celebrate Black History Month I and II as naturally and necessarily as men and women meet and merge for joy and life, and seasons change and bring some new and needed good into the world. Our history is a self-conscious and sustained struggle for growth, transformation and transcendence to ever higher levels of human life in ever-expanding realms of human freedom and human flourishing.
We can concede that it was a shock to many, if not most, White folks to see “their own” dressed in Hollywood Viking and Visigoth headdress, howling hate, attacking police and property, calling out kill lists for various future victims, as they rampaged seditiously and sanctimoniously through the Capitol attempting a coup. But they should not have been surprised, even if shocked, about how this time they found themselves and some of us and others, needing to shelter in place and hide under desks and tables to escape harm and possible death in one of America’s most sacred and secured places of government, the U.S. Capitol Building.
There is no doubt that the nomination and election of Kamala Harris as Vice President Elect of the United States of America is of great importance and meaning to us as a people. Indeed, it was a hard-won victory, not only at the voting box, but over the numerous evil, oppressive and varied attempts to deny our vote and voice before and after the election. Like the election of President Baraka Obama, it is for Black people an historical achievement born of a constant and committed work and righteous and relentless struggle to expand the realm of freedom, justice, and equity in this country.
It is said that the defeat of Donald Trump signals that the country is ready for a change, but we have not been given on the nightly news, on social media or by mail, anything that resembles a comprehensive view of what the change might look like. Nor have we heard from the academy, Congress, or the corporate world anything beyond convenient confessions that Black lives do indeed matter. And the question of how that works out in public policy and social practice is still to be determined with no definite or proposed dates in sight. But we know from the ample evidence of history and the lived experience of our daily lives that whatever it means and promises for White folks and others, it will not mean or promise the same for us.
In our rightful celebration and valuing of our victory in saving ourselves and America from its Trumpian self, we must remember and recommit ourselves to continuing our larger struggle. For although we removed Trump, the monster side of America from office, the millions of people who support, enable and voted for him for a second term offer ample evidence the system itself is deeply flawed and in need of radical reconception and reconstruction. And so, at the outset, we must not harbor any Americana illusions of “we’re better than this or that,” as if “we” was all of us, doing wrong.
In the midst of the pandemic of COVID 19, the ongoing pathology of racist oppression and lying imposed as a way of life, the sacred charge to us by our honored foremother, Mrs. Fannie Lou Hamer (October 6), to constantly question and radically transform America is both urgent and enduringly relevant. She taught that justice and freedom require truth and “if we want America to be a free society, we must stop lying” and stop people’s lying from going unchallenged. Indeed, we must speak truth to the people and speak truth to power
As we continue to mark, celebrate and commemorate the 55th Anniversary of the founding of our organization Us, 6205 | September 7 | 1965, I want to continue to draw from some of our early ideas and practices and discuss and demonstrate their current and enduring relevance.
Among the sacred names of our honored ancestors which we raise and praise this month, let us pay homage and pour libation for Paul Robeson (April 9, 1898—January 23, 1976), a truly Imhotepian man, in the classical African sense of the word, i.e., a master of many disciplines of knowledge and skilled practice directed toward bringing good in the world. Indeed, he was a critically acclaimed actor, singer, scholar, civil and human rights activist, orator and advocate of workers and everyday people everywhere. However, it is important to note that it is not simply his professional excellence and achievement which made him who he was and won for him accolades, honors and reverent respect around the world, but also his profound and steadfast commitment to his principles and his people and to humanity as a whole, especially ordinary, everyday people.
Like all the great men and women who compose and construct this sacred narrative we know as our history, African history, both the life and death of Martin Luther King Jr. offer us valuable lessons on not only how we should live our lives, but also those things to which and for which we will give our lives. King’s death for us cannot be simply summed up as an assassination; for that is what the oppressor and his collaborators did. And we do not deny it or play down its evil. But to focus on what they did is to overlook and lessen the importance of what King did. For he gave his life so we could live fuller and freer ones. And it is this self-giving for us and the greater causes of life that we call and honor as martyrdom.