Rhetoric Race and Religion
On Wednesday evening, June 17, Dylan Roof attended a Bible Study service at Emanuel AME Church in Charleston, South Carolina. After studying with members of the congregation for about an hour, he promptly got up and started shooting. Before he left, nine people, including the pastor, South Carolina State Senator, Clementa Pickney were dead. Here at R3, we thought we would collect some of the raw emotions from people who are grieving this act of terrorism.
Read part 1 here
It’s so exhausting to see all of these black bodies slain, abused and exploited and still have to deal with white friends and loved ones who maintain that these are just “isolated incidents”…rather than indicative of our country’s culture. I’m tired of being angry. I’m tired of being sad. I’m tired of protesting. I’m tired of explaining why racism is not a figment of black imagination. I’m tired of the misery racism causes. I’m tired of people who would rather stick their heads in the sand than acknowledge what is happening.
I have no words. Just… no words. Mainly because I believe my words would fall upon the ears of two groups of people: (1) The people who, like me, are outraged and for whom my words are unnecessary, and (2) the people who cannot see the larger picture, who believe that I am being unreasonable, the people who will argue that one racist shooter doesn’t equal a culture of racism, the people who are – in essence – the problem. For the latter, this post will be written off as another unfounded rant from an angry black person. For the latter, this post is offensive because they don’t see color and therefore can’t be racist. For the latter, the rose-tinted world in which they live has been devoid of racism since Obama took office. For the latter, understanding of the overarching problem will never happen because they refuse to acknowledge the existence of said problem.
This has been such a long, horrible day. Rarely is the evil face of racism, of terrorism, so baldly displayed. I spent today talking to people about violence against black churches. It is so sad and so hard, but also so necessary: people need to know that such violence against black Christians and black churches has a long history in this country. And people need to know that the perpetrators of that violence called themselves Christian, too.
I honestly want to cry, but my pride won’t let me. That’s a shame. I just want us to wake up from the nightmare we all participate in. Let’s have the real conversation. Let’s stop putting band-aids on the wounds of violence, hate, and racism. Let’s put the real work in to deal with the complexities that plague this great country. I am an American who love my country, and will not stand for pretending things do not exist if I want us to be better. Not looking for copouts, hyperboles, or defensive remarks, only relief from being tired of this mess. It sounded corny then, and still sounds corny now, but I understand it. Can we all just get along? Can we make some changes that shows this land as the melting pot that it should be? No one has time to keep seeing depressive articles rolling down there timeline. I still believe in hope, but this is a weary journey to see it. Let’s keep going, but man, this is annoying.
You do know what you sound like, right, when a racist murderer tells you he is racist and he murders people, and you are still diligently making room for the possibility that he is insane? I am more afraid of you than him. Seems there are more of you than him. There is benefit of doubt and there is denial. And your denial is getting Black people killed. Yours. Yours. Every breath you use to wonder “what on Earth is happening these days?” when what is happening is perfectly clear, is a bullet. Every second you waste with your hands in the air wondering what on Earth someone like you can possibly do is a death sentence. How about this: act like the “equality” you wish for among races is real. Don’t wait for it to come. Imagine each one of the people killed were your own “real” brothers, sisters, sons, and daughters. Sit with that til it hurts. Do it genuinely and watch that feeling of helplessness give way to conviction. I don’t have any directives for you. It’s hard for me to know exactly what to do myself some days. But enough with the shock and fleeting despair. I can’t tell you how much is enough. Some things we have to figure out for ourselves. We are grown-ups. And like it or not, this is our world.
Let this comment sink in:
“He said blacks were taking over the world. Someone needed to do something about it for the white race.”
He did this for us. He did this for white America. Let this sink in. How many different ways do we have to hear that white supremacy is a white problem before we finally believe it and take responsibility for it?
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