BLERD THOUGHTS
I did not watch the three-week trial of Derek Chauvin, the former Minneapolis police officer who brutally murdered George Floyd, a 46-year-old unarmed Black Minneapolis native, last year. I made it a point to not watch it. The entire trial was too traumatic and voyeuristic to me and I knew all eyes-- in America and beyond-- would be on it, but I refused to be part of that crowd. Before the trial, I signed out of and deleted my Instagram app out of precaution. I knew every update about the trial would be on my feed given that I follow a few social justice and activism accounts, but I could not bring myself to relive the trauma and distress I felt when the news about George Floyd (which brought back horrific memories of how I processed the story of seventeen-year-old Trayvon Martin's murder at the hands of a racist vigilante) first broke, so bye-bye went Instagram. Furthermore, I avoided the major news networks that provided wall-to-wall coverage of the trial. When the news broke that the jury had reached a verdict, I anxiously tuned in to hear the decision. As a Black woman who's lived twenty-two (going on twenty-three) full years of being Black, I expected the criminal justice system to fail me and my community again. I expected to see news coverage of protests and marches, led by community leaders and activists who are beyond tired of a racist justice system repeatedly treat them like dirt. I expected those same leaders and activists to be interviewed by on-the-ground reporters asking them their thoughts on the verdict as if they didn't already know they'd be hurt, enraged, and exhausted. I expected those same reporters to converse with in-studio anchors about the looting they were witnessing, condemning the looters for taking advantage of the current situation to wreak havoc or distract from the message demonstrators were trying to send with their marches and chants of "I can't breathe" or "No justice, no peace." Worst of all, I expected politicians-- including the President of the United States, current and previous-- to offer a safe message expressing heartache, sadness, and anger at the verdict, like they didn't already know the criminal justice system was designed to oppress, exploit, and brutalize BIPoC (Black, Indigenous, and People of Color). Like they didn't already know that the very system they were decrying as "broken" was practically working the way it intended. In short: I didn't have high hopes going in. After all, the precedent for little to no justice or accountability was already set. So imagine my surprise when the verdict came back guilty. Derek Chauvin was found guilty on all counts for the murder of George Floyd; he was convicted of second and third-degree murder, as well as second-degree manslaughter. He faces up to 75 years in prison, but, as NBC News reported, it is highly likely Chauvin will spend no more than 40 years in prison due to current Minnesota laws. Regardless of the specifics, it was clear Chauvin caused Floyd's death and he would be sent to jail for the brutal murder he committed, a murder captured on camera by a teenage girl who'll likely be traumatized for God knows how long by what she witnessed. Yet, I felt no relief or comfort by this verdict. Just overwhelming sadness. While I felt a small twinge of joy for George's family, who deserve the much-needed solace this verdict has undoubtedly brought them, I couldn't help but be upset. No guilty verdict can change the fact that George Floyd should be alive today. The system that handed down a guilty verdict was part of the bigger racist systems that allowed a police officer to take Floyd's life; those said systems still remain fully intact. Because of those systems, George Floyd will never make it back home and be with his daughter, Gianna. He'll never get to take walks through the park with his fiancée, Courteney, or play basketball with his brother, Philonise. He'll never get to visit his family members once the pandemic winds down, nor will he ever get to spend time with any of his friends and loved ones. Knowing this makes it difficult to be relieved by this verdict, especially since it comes from the same racist systems that thrive off the distress we feel when another Black life is cruelly taken. (The fact that getting justice for Black folks in the LGBTQ+ community, as evidenced by the story of Tony McDade, or Black folks living with mental illness is even harder makes this verdict more difficult to accept.) Holding Derek Chauvin accountable for the murder of George Floyd is a critically necessary first step in securing justice, but I know all too well that a conviction doesn't mean justice. True justice not only looks like George Floyd still being alive today, but also Breonna Taylor, Daunte Wright, Adam Toledo, Ahmaud Arbery, Trayvon Martin, Sandra Bland, Philando Castile, Alton Sterling, Eric Garner, Michael Brown, and countless other Black and brown folks who have been brutally murdered by the police alongside Floyd in the land of the living. True justice looks like Jacob Blake not being paralyzed by police because he was trying to break up a fight. Or Lt. Caron Nazario not being pepper sprayed by cops who callously told him to be afraid of them. True justice looks like Christian Cooper being able to do some bird-watching without having to deal with a racist white woman ready and willing to weaponize her whiteness while calling 9/11 to specifically say this "African American man" was "recording [her] and threatening [her] and [her] dog." Or 14-year-old Keyon Harrold Jr. being able to walk into a hotel lobby without being physically assaulted by a white woman falsely accusing him of stealing her iPhone. Or Victor Kamara, an average bakery employee just trying to get through another work day, being able to do his job without some maskless white woman hurling racial slurs at him in front of a crowd of bystanders and her own mixed-race children. True justice looks like the Black community not being devastated by yet another story of an officer senselessly murdering a Black person. Around the same time the Chauvin verdict was being read, Ma'Khia Bryant, a 16-year-old Ohio teen in the foster system, was killed by a cop who thought that the best way to break up a fight was to fire his fucking gun. To paraphrase attorney Benjamin Crump, one community breathed a sigh of relief while another must deal with the sorrow and rage brought by yet another police officer murdering yet another Black person. Most of all, true justice looks like our government finally investing in the Black community and other marginalized communities rather than the racist, unjust criminal legal system. The systems as they currently stand are incapable of delivering liberation, let alone justice. Our communities need and demand more than a guilty verdict delivered through the same systems that protect racist cops and vigilantes. I know many are calling for police reform, but if there's anything last summer taught me (and I can only speak for myself here), there's no 'reforming' the police. There's no 'reforming' these deadly systems. What needs to be done now is to divest from deadly, racist policing and invest in a vision of public safety that actually aims to protect all of us. Our country's policing and criminal legal systems have targeted and devalued Black, brown, and Indigenous lives for centuries. This verdict is far bigger than one police officer, one police department, or one city. If this doesn't motivate our government to finally start reimagining what public safety could look like and actually commit to creating transformative change that ensures justice and fair treatment for all people, then I don't know what will. I know one thing, though: I'm so tired. I'm so tired of being bombarded with story after story of Black folks being murdered by police. I'm so tired of watching politicians and police chiefs trot out the tired-ass "one bad apple" defense or the "calls for defunding the police is hurting our country" argument. I'm so tired of my heart breaking and my spirit hurting for the Black lives-- male, female, or gender non-conforming; young or old; straight, gay, bisexual, lesbian, or queer; cisgender or transgender; able-bodied or disabled; poor or of relatively stable class standing-- we've either lost already or continue to lose because of a system deeply rooted in white supremacy and invested in the illusion of safety granted by state-sanctioned violence. If you happened to take some solace or relief in Tuesday's verdict, that's great. You're valid to feel that way. After all the heartache we've endured over the past year, solace is hard to come by. It's okay to take it where you can get it. But, please don't let that relief obscure the fact that this verdict confirms that white supremacy is still alive and kicking. There's still so many systems to be dismantled, so much work to be done. Don't let this verdict fool you into thinking the systems in place currently are fixed and just; they're far from it. An oppressive, racist system cannot deliver justice for BIPoC. It can never deliver justice. What the world saw on Tuesday wasn't justice; it was just a sliver of accountability, and our communities-- matter of fact, America overall (because racism doesn't just affect BIPoC)-- deserve more than that. What happened on Tuesday will not bring our loved ones back. George Floyd is still gone. Floyd's daughter and family will have to live their lives without him. No guilty verdict can change the unfathomable reality his family and the families of the other Black and brown people brutally ripped away from us must now navigate. The day we achieve true justice is the day no Black or brown person is unjustly and brutally murdered at the hands of the police. The day we achieve true justice is the day where Black people and other folks of color can live in a society where we wouldn't feel the need to question what the outcome of this trial would be or whether this trial is a push toward real, sustainable forms of transformative justice. The day we achieve true justice is the day where we finally get to escape this shitty version of Groundhog Day, where we don't have to live in a constant state of distress due to the senseless killings within our communities. Breathe that sigh of relief; you've earned it. But remember, there's still work to do. If you want to help the Floyd family continue his legacy, you can support them through the George Floyd Memorial Foundation which you can access here.
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