Morning Rages

On Monday, May 25, 2020, a man named George Floyd was murdered by a policeman kneeling on his neck, crushing him into the pavement in Minneapolis, Minnesota.  I didn't know George Floyd.  But I know this.

Every day I write morning pages, at least I try to.  I do it when I'm trying to unravel dreams or figure out something in my writing work.  Sometimes just to get my head on straight in the morning, or to process life.  When the lockdown came, I wasn't journaling.  I didn't have much to say, or rather I had too much to put down.  And then I needed to write, so I started journaling again to loosen up my writing practice. It’s a personal practice. But sometimes it needs to be public, too.

On Monday, May 25, 2020, a man named George Floyd was murdered by a policeman kneeling on his neck, crushing him into the pavement in Minneapolis, Minnesota.  I didn't know George Floyd.  But I know this.

What book do we write?

Five years ago, in the summer of 2016, I started working at Hamline University on Snelling Avenue in St. Paul.  I was there to teach in the Children's Writing Program.  That summer, it seemed like the world was ending.  Down the street from my first faculty meeting, a man named Philando Castile was murdered by a policeman while sitting in his car next to his girlfriend with their toddler daughter in the back seat.  Some of the people I teach with knew Philando Castile.  He was beloved of their children at the elementary school where he worked just a few miles away.  In our first faculty meeting one of the advisors, a picture book author asked the question:  What book do we write for the child in that back seat?

The day before Philando Castile died, another man, Alton Sterling had been killed by police in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, shot while pinned to the ground. Two African American men dead in the course of two days, at the hands of white police.

Protests broke out across the country.  In Dallas, Texas, twelve policemen were shot, five of them killed.  The shooter was a young black veteran.  He was also killed.  Across the planet, there was violence, natural and manmade.  A Category 5 typhoon was barreling down on Taiwan and China, the civil war in Syria had reached new heights of devastation, there was an attempted coup d'état in Turkey.  Chaos reigned.  It seemed as if the entire world was at struggling against the knee of power, begging for air.

But, the more things change, the more they stay the same.

The more things change…

This summer, the summer of 2020, feels like the end of the world.  Mother Nature has given humanity a planet-wide time out.  Shelter in place.  Be good to one another.  Survive, she says.  The message goes out, Covid-19 is scrubbing the world clean of our social divides.  Only, it isn't, is it?

Reports crop up and then flood in.  The disparities of race, class, and privilege in our society—those deeply carved unsealable breaches—have served as lamb's blood on the doors of the Haves and a curse on the doors of the Have Nots.  People of color, people of working class, people of no consequence in the pre-Covid-19 days are dying in waves, far outpacing the effect of this global disease.

Even so, it seems a white policeman will take the time out of his day to close the recommended social distance to kill a man.  A person of color, under the knee of authority, gasping for air. 

One voice

If you are like me, you sit inside in anger and wonder what to do.  For Ahmaud Arbery, for Breonna Taylor, for Philando Castillo, for Alton Sterling, Botham Jean, George Floyd, and on and on and on. 

If you are like me, you turn the other cheek (again and again and again) because the exhaustion of repetition, of inevitability, of injustice, of fear for our brothers, our husbands, our sisters, our parents, our children, is more than the human heart can bear.

If you are like me, you one day find you can turn the other cheek no more.

This is not a political action.  This is a human action.

This is one voice standing up to say:  Stop.

Human action

To the good people of the Twin Cities, I say:  Stop them.  Stop your police and their violent response, to the training that says, "Kill first, apologize later."  And I say:  Learn.  Learn from your mistakes so no more children are orphaned, no more human beings are lynched because the dominate culture thinks it is their right, thinks it will buy them their safety, earn them their manhood, to kill another human being.

To the families of loved ones who have been crushed beneath the heel of these fear-driven, ego-ridden predators I say, Stand tall.  They will cut us down, but we must rise.  Not in a wave of violence, but in a wave of humanity, of self-knowing, of pride.  We are the grass that springs back.  We are the Earth that endures.  And we are the people who vote.

Vote.  It's not as immediate or perhaps even as satisfying as throwing a brick or setting a fire.  It's not as comforting as turning off the news and hugging your family.  It's not even always effective.  But our ancestors, our elders, fought for the right to vote, to change policy, to change police commissioners, to change the way the system works.  It is imperfect, but it is a hard-won tool.  And we should use it.

Speak.  Tell your stories.  Stories have the power to pierce the thickest armor.  They have the endurance to outlive the speaker.  To travel on the conscience and subconscious of this human circle of which we are each a part.

This is not a performance.  It is not a call for pity.  It is a reality check.  What do we fear?  Who have we lost?  What do we want, for ourselves, for our children?  Are our wants so different in the end?

Tired of bleeding

Dr. King had a dream and, while we haven't full achieved it, we have moved closer to it.  Not as far as we might think some days, not nearly as far as we had hoped.  But we remember the story of his dream.  And the dreams of our foreparents.  The women and men who marched, who died, who swung from trees, who were stolen from their families.

My own grandfather was beaten in the streets of New Orleans because a drunk white man ran into my grandfather's car.  My grandmother lost her sight, and almost her life in the accident this person caused.  And yet it was my grandfather, waiting at the stop light, who went, bloody and bruised, to jail.

These are our stories.  These are our memories.  Every new injustice, every death, every person made to plead for their life, their humanity, is a fresh wound on top of old scars. 

I for one am tired of bleeding.

To take action, consider the following suggestions:

  • Donate to Black Visions to support the community-led response to this violence.

  • Follow Reclaim the Block to stay informed about abolition work in Minneapolis.

  • Educate yourself and others about the history of Minneapolis Police and why “reform” isn’t an option: Star Tribune op-ed and MPD150 website.

  • Respond to the disproportionate effects of Covid-19 on minority communities and share resources for survival.

  • Vote in person or by mail, whichever is safest.  See here for Minnesota's voting options.  In another state?  Find out what your voting rules are by visiting the state elections website.  You can search for yours here. 

  • Listen to our stories, learn our history, and take the steps to understand. 

The following list of resources were compiled by activists Sarah Sophie Flicker, Alyssa Klein in May 2020.

Resources for white parents to raise anti-racist children:

 Articles to read:

 Videos to watch:

 Podcasts to subscribe to:

 Books to read:

 Films and TV series to watch:

  • 13th (Ava DuVernay) — Netflix

  • American Son (Kenny Leon) — Netflix

  • Black Power Mixtape: 1967-1975 — Available to rent

  • Clemency (Chinonye Chukwu) — Available to rent

  • Dear White People (Justin Simien) — Netflix

  • Fruitvale Station (Ryan Coogler) — Available to rent

  • I Am Not Your Negro (James Baldwin doc) — Available to rent or on Kanopy

  • If Beale Street Could Talk (Barry Jenkins) — Hulu

  • Just Mercy (Destin Daniel Cretton) — Available to rent

  • King In The Wilderness  — HBO

  • See You Yesterday (Stefon Bristol) — Netflix

  • Selma (Ava DuVernay) — Available to rent

  • The Black Panthers: Vanguard of the Revolution — Available to rent

  • The Hate U Give (George Tillman Jr.) — Hulu with Cinemax

  • When They See Us (Ava DuVernay) — Netflix

 Organizations to follow on social media:

 More anti-racism resources to check out:

This work takes a collation.  While the views expressed in this post are my own, the resources are from a variety of sources. Many thanks to Josina Malu Malzman at Jewish Voices for Peace-Twin Cities, activists Sarah Sophie Flicker and Alyssa Klein, Elena Georgiou of Goddard MFAW, Mary Rockcastle of Hamline MFAC, and Sarah Park Dahlen for their assistance in offering resources for action. 

Stay safe. Stay sane. Stay alive.



Call and ResponseSherri SmithGeorge Floyd, Philando Castile, Civil Rights