Yes, Black Lives Matter

Never again, in the aftermath of Charlottesville, would I use this space to decry the scourge of racial injustice in America.

 

Never again would I pen another word about man’s inhumanity to man, for I’d have no reason to do so.

 

That’s what I hoped, anyway. Who was I kidding?

 

Now, at 2 a.m., well into another night of fitful sleep, I find myself lying awake, grieving still for Ahmaud Aubery, Breonna Taylor, George Floyd, and for far too many others who have died a painful death for no crime other than being a black man or woman or child caught in the wrong place at the wrong time amidst the wrong people.

 

I grieve for friends, colleagues and neighbors among them, who have felt the sting of disparagement, stereotyping, and racial profiling.

 

I grieve for those who walk in peace, exercising their First Amendment rights, only to find their paths blocked, their voices silenced, and their appeals for justice ignored.

 

And I pray for their oppressors, that they will one day see the light, but in no way do I condone their oppression.

 

Black Lives Matter. Yes, Black Lives Matter.

 

That’s no political statement. It’s a statement – expressed emphatically, earnestly, and with heartfelt emotion – about the dignity of human life, about what’s right, and about what’s just. The beauty of America is not that we’re all alike. It’s that we’re often very different in every conceivable way, but through our differences we can enrich one another if only we shed prejudices, speak civilly, listen respectfully, think clearly, and open our eyes and ears to the wellbeing of one another and to change.

 

If the same vast resources could be used to elevate and celebrate rather than trivialize and vilify, how much better this world would be. We were put on this earth, you see, not to demean and destroy but to care for one another, support and nurture one another, learn from one another, and bring out the very best in one another. What greater calling could there be? What greater gift could we bestow?

 

Why is this all so complicated? In the stillness of the night, I reflect. I ponder. I strain to comprehend. I rack my brain for answers.

 

How, I wonder, can supposedly evolved and enlightened people consider those who look different than they to be inferior?

 

How can the wounds of the aggrieved be healed?

 

How can we ever understand, even remotely, what it’s like to walk in the shoes of others: to hear what they hear, see what they see, feel what they feel?

 

And if we can’t, how can we at least draw strength and inspiration from their life experiences and from the challenges of their long and devious journeys?

 

Can this moment in time truly be transformative? Can it create change, real change, everlasting change for the greater good?

 

Through the pain and anguish, the cries for help, and the pleas for understanding and unity, there is hope.

 

There’s always hope, though at times it seems but a distant flicker in the darkness of the night.

 

Why place blame when we can solve?

 

Why belittle when we can ally?

 

Why be bystanders when we can be upstanders for justice?

 

Why look back, except to learn, when we can move forward, slowly, perhaps, but steadily: brothers and sisters, arm in arm, into a peaceful future?

 

Now can be that golden moment.

 

Fanciful thinking? you say. Idealistic? Unattainable?

 

Not if you believe. Not if you strive with all your heart to achieve.

  ~ Weldon Bradshaw