“If you want to say that I was a drum major, say that I was a drum major for justice. Say that I was a drum major for peace. I was a drum major for righteousness. And all of the other shallow things will not matter.” – Martin Luther King Jr.
During the summer of 2013, my younger brother and I visited my sister in Washington DC. After a day well spent exploring the city, we spent the evening in the apartment, watching the case of George Zimmerman who was on trial for killing an unarmed African-American teenager, Trayvon Martin. My recollection of that summer evening in 2013 is one of great sadness. The moment was surreal as we all stood still to listen to the verdict. Dead silence filled the room after we heard ‘Not Guilty’. I remember looking at my 15-year-old brother who stood very still in shock. I had the urge to throw my arms around him and protect him from the injustice we witnessed.
Since that time, many unjust killings of black people have occurred and because of internet and social media, the stories spread widely and the hashtag #blacklivesmatter became popular. In the years of 2014-2015, I was in the United Kingdom for my postgraduate studies and several peers asked my views on the violence happening to ‘black’ people in the US. Most times, I was uncomfortable and annoyed by the questions, so I usually avoided having conversations with people on the subject.
Honestly, I was scared to speak and share my views on racial injustices. I was afraid I couldn’t articulate the issues well enough. I didn’t want to be a spokesperson. I didn’t know how to be an advocate. My emotions were too heavy so I was sure I’d be misunderstood. Although I had a few conversations I was always careful not to go in too deep.
When I returned to the US in 2016, I developed a deep respect for the Black Lives Matter Movement, which sparked after the Trayvon Martin case in 2013. Racial tensions were higher than I remembered. People on opposing sides passionately expressed their views. There were people angry, people who could not sympathize, there were people indifferent, there were people desensitized to the events. Then there people scared, like me. The Black Lives Matter movement provided a voice for me.
A courageous voice when all I felt was confusion and fear.
That following morning in summer 2013, after hearing the verdict of Zimmerman, I remember walking with my sister and brother into the city. The silence was still heavy among us. We stopped at a café to get drinks and the noise, laughter, and chatter in the crowded café took me by surprise. It felt incredibly uncomfortable being in that environment, when all night and morning there was silence. At first, I could not understand how people could be so cheerful and energetic after such a difficult night. It was only when I looked around that cafe, it sunk in. My siblings and I were the only black people I could see in the room. It was like stepping into reality. Not everyone was affected the same by the ‘not guilty’ verdict of Zimmerman. After we got our drinks and exited the cafe, I heard someone say ‘look after him’. There were two older black women sitting outside and one of them looked at us intensely.
She said ‘look after him’. She was speaking about my younger brother.
‘I will’, I responded.
Read more like this : Black life – A February Series