It's not been our best week (or month, or year, or decade), friends. What can I say when the world is so ravaged by pain? So full of righteous anger? So devastated by sorrow and loss? No words are sufficient to heal the wound of generations of systemic racism. I can't say "fuck" enough times to even come close to the catharsis needed to comfort us right now.
But I'm going to fucking try.
Let's get this out of the way first: black lives matter. If you don't agree, you should probably stop reading and also go fuck yourself. Black and brown people are being murdered and beaten and thrown in jail every single day. We have a broken, racist policing system that is more focused on protecting itself than it is on protecting our communities. There is no salvaging this; that ship has sailed, was hit by an iceberg, sank to the bottom of the sea and is currently occupied by pirate ghosts. Our only option is to dismantle what exists and to rebuild it. That's it.
All over the country, people are gathering by the hundreds of thousands to stand against the murders of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and Ahmaud Arbery. Of course, these are only the most recent examples of a problem that has existed since white men stepped on to this land 400 years ago. White supremacy is ingrained in our society as much as baseball or apple pie or a bald eagle drinking a Bud Lite in front of a hot dog. We need to stop pretending this is a "good cop" vs. "bad cop" problem. I don't care if he's saved an entire burning orphanage, if a police officer comes to the defense of police brutality and murder, he isn't a good cop. This is a society problem, and every single law enforcement official and every single white person in this country bears some responsibility for allowing this to happen. Call out your #alllivesmatter uncle and cut ties with the guy from high school who is talking about property damage instead of the fact that people are fucking dying.
And about that property damage... I realize that a Target, our great and holy master, burning to the ground is a trauma for most white people, but if you are mourning that more than you mourn the thousands of black lives that are taken every year, you need to get your priorities together. You know why people are rioting? Because it works. It worked when Marsha P. Johnson threw the first brick at Stonewall, it worked with the revolutionaries tossed the tea into Boston Harbor, and it's working right now. It also worked when a bunch of slack-jawed yokels stormed capital buildings armed with assault rifles because they wanted a haircut, only that time the police stood there because #white. Sit-ins didn't work. Kneeling didn't work. Marches didn't work. It's awful, it's sad, it's a tragedy, but it isn't as tragic as even one more lost life. It isn't as tragic as the NYPD driving into a crowd or a child getting pepper-sprayed.
My fellow mayonnaise-Americans, this paragraph is for you. No matter how "woke" you are, you better be taking a look inside yourself and taking note how you (unintentionally or otherwise) contribute to white supremacy. Sure, you aren't the ones doing racist stuff, but that isn't enough. If you are not living your life in an anti-racist way, then you're not there. If you aren't actively fighting racism and hatred, if you're complacent in any way, then you are contributing. It's a hard truth, my friends. It's very hard. I'm dealing with it, too. But feeling defensive or getting trapped in a meaningless white guilt spiral isn't what we need to be doing right now. Make an appointment to discuss it with your therapist, and get to work. We need to use our privilege to protect black lives right now. Call your representatives. Give money. If you are healthy and able, protest. Post on social media. Check on your friends and tell them how loved and cherished they are. Listen to black voices. Cry together. Stand shoulder to shoulder with a stranger and demand justice and equality. Take the burden they have been carrying. Anything less only serves to empower those that would take black and brown lives.
I haven't been proud to be an American for a long time, but in my heart there is a little kernel of hope that change is possible. Maybe that's ridiculous, but against all odds, that little spark of hope remains. I hope I'm right.
Stay strong.
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