Black Lives Matter: "Find the root. Now pull."

I had a conversation with a former coworker over cocktails. In many ways, we are polar opposites. He’s a man. I’m a woman. He’s White. I’m Black. He grew up in a small, racially homogenous, conservative town in rural Indiana. I grew up in a politically liberal suburb outside of Washington, D.C. where my childhood friend group resembled a Benetton ad. He told me about a friend of his, a Black woman who, to put it bluntly, hated being Black. My coworker asked me what I thought about his friend. I’ll admit, I wanted to judge her. I wanted to chastise her for internalizing the destructive and traumatizing messages of white supremacy, but then again, she didn’t live in a vacuum. Nor do I. So I said, “I can’t speak for your friend, but I don’t have a problem being Black. White America has a problem with me being Black.”

The past few weeks has been a continuation of this very conversation. The murder of George Floyd at the hands of four police officers in Minneapolis is seen by many as the catalyst for protests that have spread to all fifty states and over 60 countries, but his death is just the tip of the iceberg of senseless acts of violence committed against Black bodies. George Floyd is Breonna Taylor. And Ahmaud Arbery. And Tony McDade. And Eric Garner. And Philando Castile. And Freddie Gray. And Michael Brown. And Tamir Rice. He is Sandra Bland. And Trayvon Martin. And Laquan McDonald. And Rodney King. And Amadou Diallo. They are all Emmett Till. And Recy Taylor. They are four little girls murdered on a Sunday morning in Birmingham. They are Tulsa. And Rosewood. And Red Summer. And a ship on the shores of a colony called Virginia.

To reduce these uprisings to police brutality shows an abject misunderstanding of the history of the U.S. and to be inclusive, a misunderstanding of the history of the Western world where the subjugation and exploitation of Black and Indigenous bodies has been instrumental in the economic and political growth of the nations that we look to as examples of democracy and freedom. The irony is not lost on me. And that these uprisings are happening in the middle of a pandemic is not surprising. One cannot ignore the disproportionate way in which Covid-19 has affected Black and Indigenous communities such that Black Americans make up only 13% of the U.S. population but are dying at three times the rate of White Americans. Or that the virus has killed more people in the Navajo Nation than it has in seven different states combined. On the contrary, the pandemic has magnified the structural inequalities that have persisted for centuries. Additionally, as I write this in the month of June, we cannot forget the Black and Brown trans women who are routinely the victims of violence, whose names are not as loudly shouted and whose stories may never be told. Dominique Fells, Riah Milton, Layleen Polanco, Muhlaysia Booker…say their names.

Angela Davis once said, “You have to act as if it were possible to radically transform the world. And you have to do it all the time.” And in defining the term “radical”, she said, “Radical simply means ‘grasping things at the root’.” White supremacy is at the root of our history. But I also believe that history is alive and we live and breathe it. At this point in history, it is the responsibility of all people, but especially White people, to learn. Be uncomfortable. And then act. Saying “Black lives matter” means nothing without action. Meaningful solidarity is putting yourself on the front lines and protesting. It is donating to organizations that support communities of color, including those with LGBTQI+ focus. It is speaking up in defense of your Black and Brown brothers and sisters when we are not watching. Support minority businesses. Fight against gentrification. Abolish the police and dismantle the school to prison pipeline. Push for more inclusive policies in the workplace. Use your political power to block and repeal oppressive legislation. Meaningful solidarity is being willing to risk your own position and comfort, in the name of anti-racism. It is passing the mic to BIPOC so that our voices can be heard. Be radical. Use your power, whatever it may be, to dig through the stony earth. Find the root. Now pull.

Seynique Smythe is a freelance writer and content creator.