🔵 By Lamont Wilkins. Photo by lauragrafie.
Dear White People, (And I don’t mean all of you either…)
Does the fact that, your Great (four times over) grandparents bought, owned, and oftentimes broke my and other Black families‘ ancestors bother me? I’ll answer that with a question of my own:
Why do you feel so attacked, when I attempt to make you aware of the things my ancestors have had to endure? Let’s play a game of Show & Tell… Show me a white woman sitting in her car alone, and I’ll tell you how many times her automatic locks have ‚just so happened‘ to engage when a black man walks by.
I’ll give a story that happened to me. The name has been changed, but I never forgot it. I’m in Georgia, The Parks at Briarcliff – beautiful gated community, pools, security on grounds, and almost every aspect of it says safe, secure, home. I’m coming from the pool one night, and I see a car drive up and drop a young woman off. She spots me, and instantly brakes into a semi trot to her townhouse. I think to myself „typical… black man, white woman, nighttime…“ The suspicion is obvious. She must have just watched ‚Birth of A Nation‘ one too many times.
As I walk towards my townhouse, I notice a lump of some sort on the ground right about where the woman was dropped off. When I get right on top of it, I realize its a purse. I pick it up, and examine the contents for some clue about it’s owner. „*Michael Wilson“ I read on her identification card, along with her address. Being at the very least a man of principle, I walk to the address and knock on her door.
„Who is it!?“
„Um hi.. you left..“
„Get away from my door – I don’t know you!“
„Ma’am I know you don’t know me, but I think you -„
„GET AWAY from my door. I DON’T KNOW YOU!“
„You dropped your purse, I’m just trying to give it back to you.“
„I didn’t drop anything, I know you’re just trying to get in here so you can..“
„Michael Wilson, that’s your name isn’t it?“
„I’m calling the police right now. You better leave if you don’t want to go to jail.“
I leave the purse at her doorstep and walk off wondering: Had I been white, would she have opened the door?
Would she have offered me a smile, a cup of coffee, a „thanks so much“? Furthermore, why is it, that I can’t be incredulous at being prejudged – because of the actions of some faceless/nameless black male that did whatever to whomever?
I can’t advocate for the teaching of Critical Race Theory, because it’ll automatically signal somehow, that I want all white people to be punished for the sins of their ancestors. How fair is that? How is that NOT akin to tying a noose around my neck, then charging me for theft of the rope? How is lynching not more about fear than anything else?
As a black man, more importantly, a black man who has seen racism rear it’s ugly head in as many forms as there are colors of the rainbow – I believe if you as a people could put yourselves in the shoes of my captive, freed, and sometimes indentured ancestors, you’d be better equipped to absorb the lesson: As a people, I don’t want any of you to be sorry – I want you to be careful.
I’ve seen a lot in my 49 years on is earth, but I’ve yet to see a black woman cross the street when she finds herself on the same side as a white man. I’ve never seen her switch the position of her pocketbook, as if in anticipation of it being snatched. Nor have I ever seen her engage the locks on her car doors when a white man walks near. Why? Because we as a people don’t teach our males and females to fear a race, only a racist.
Name a neighborhood, where the black families have banded together and railed against selling property to white families, for fear that it’ll drive down the property values of their and their neighbor’s. No, think hard on it, I’ll wait… Exactly. As a black man, I have been exposed to our history as not just a rite of passage, but also as a cautionary tale of what has, and will continue to happen to members of my race. I struggle with how I’m supposed to deal with the almost ritualistic degradation of my people, for no other reason than the color of our skin. I understand that for many, the past is the past, and they’ve „let it go“ so to speak. I can’t do that, because every year, during „Black History Month“.. the shortest month other year by the way, I watch the man that murdered Medger Evers in cold blood, shake hands with the mayor during his trial, while in today’s time, another man – a black man, is considered irredeemable as he is sentenced to Life plus 85 years for a stray bullet shot by someone else, accidentally hitting and killing an Innocent bystander. If I were to tell you that the actual alleged killers have been home for years now – and they „just so happen“ to be white, would it matter? Of course not. I’ve actually seen the tee-shirts with Dr. King’s face on them – in the cross hairs, with the caption „James Earl Ray had a dream too.“
I’ve witnessed firsthand the same glee in the faces and gleam in the eyes of the lynch mobs as they watch a black body hung by the neck, with the normalcy of having a cup of coffee. It’s taken me years to shake the urge to ask, when you plant a new tree, how many of you envision a black person hanging from it when it matures? These are just a few of the things that run through my mind, though I don’t speak for every black person.Racism – like wealth, is passed down from generation to generation. The cycle is only broken via education and immersion. Mind you, I always feel I’m mere seconds away from having my „Black Card“ revoked, cause I’m one of those so-called ’sellouts‘ whom has never been in a relationship with a black woman. My preference – I hope, has nothing to do with race and everything to do with how a woman treats me irrespective of color. That said, I certainly wouldn’t want my significant other to feel some kind of way about being informed. I still question whether there’s a line I could cross that would lead to her calling me the „N“ word in anger. I wonder how I’d react. Our child is of mixed race, but she’d certainly be crushed if her mother said that, knowing she’d be talking about her as well. Far be it from me to insist on you learning not just the great aspects of your lineage, but also the parts that border on barbaric. I don’t your reparations, because to those whom have already made up their minds about Black’s, and their place in this world, we’d only be ni**ERS with money. They say those whom forget their past are doomed to repeat it. I wonder whether this counts for both sides. I suppose you’d have only to look at the ratio of the 2 Million plus incarcerated soils in this United States in order to ascertain if this is fact or fiction. Yesterday’s chattel is today’s prisoner. The Overseers are no less intent on breaking the will.There can be no light without darkness, I realize this. There can be no growth without education either.