"Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it." - George Santayana
I do not condone violence, nor do I support anarchy.
As a result of violent protests surrounding the death of George Floyd the governor of Arizona declared a state of emergency and imposed a statewide curfew beginning at 8pm this evening. Despite this declaration, there have been numerous calls on social media for continued protests at Arizona centers of commerce as well as municipal buildings. Even the hacktivist group Anonymous has gotten into the act, threatening to use its legions to "expose the many crimes" of the Minneapolis police as well as to disrupt governmental operations in various cities.
Arizona is not alone in this regard. Thirteen states have called out the national guard and numerous municipalities have declared states of emergency in response to ever increasingly violent protests and altercations with the police.
At times like this, it's particularly difficult to say anything as a Black Man of a Certain Age here in America. Assumptions are automatically made about you, regardless of what you espouse. If you state your understanding of the anger you are labelled a militant and a thug; if you lean too much toward the side of peace and negotiation, you are called a Tom and a "house nigger."
In a nation becoming all too polarized based upon wealth and pigmentation, the notion of civil discourse seems farther and father away.
I do not condone violence, nor do I support anarchy...so instead, let me tell you a story.
1950 - In early December that year, my father's infantry unit was fractured and scattered by the invading Chinese in northern Korea. On the 16th of that month, after weeks of evading capture, my father became a prisoner of war. As he was marched to the first of six camps he would occupy, Dad watched many of the senior enlisted soldiers removing their rank insignia from their uniforms. Dad found such actions “appalling” and “cowardly.”
Upon arrival at their destination, Dad found himself the ranking man in a hut of 17 other prisoners. After three years, six camps, frostbite, and enduring tortures too numerous and graphic to mention (to include having both knees broken personally by the camp commander), Dad brought 15 of his 17 charges out alive.
Despite those efforts, and earning one of his three purple hearts and the Distinguished Service Cross (our nation's second highest military honor), the first thing the Army did once Dad could walk was to threaten him with courts martial. It seems that the 15 surviving members of his hut had accused dad of collaboration and conduct unbecoming a solider -- highly ironic since 6 of those 15 were among those who had removed their rank insignia. When pressed as to why they made such an accusation, the truth emerged: these Proud White Men were galled at the fact that this one black man had told them what to do for 3 years; he was, in the words of one, an "uppity nigger who needed to be taken down a peg."
...different times, though...right?
1975 - After retiring from the Army in the late 60s, Dad went to work for one of the largest regional banks in New England. Dad’s goal was to become a bank officer, as he felt it was the best path to take care of his family in the long run. Bank officials told Dad that he would need experience and a degree in order to be considered for such a position. Dad took every job imaginable in the bank, learning as much as he could at every step. He took college courses at night and on the weekends to finish his degree at Boston University. Finally, when he met all the qualifications, he asked his mentor at the bank when he could expect to be promoted to an officer position.
“Never,” was the simple, unqualified answer.
...still, this had to be an isolated incident...right?
1978 -- Undaunted, in late 1975 my Dad took his skills to a second financial institution which gave him the promotion and responsibility he sought. As usual, Dad worked hard and tirelessly at his job. He optimized processes, created efficiencies, and raised the standards of the Bank’s money room (where all – all – funds came and left the bank daily). Three years into the job, several thousand dollars turned up missing. My Dad’s processes allowed the bank to find the money and the person who stole it – in less than a week -- yet they fired my Dad as well for “failure to properly supervise.” Several years and a contentious lawsuit later, we learned that the money was deliberately misplaced at the behest of a senior bank officer who felt that my Dad was getting “too uppity” for his own good and needed to be “put in his place.” While Dad won that war eventually, as a teenager I watched the battle of a man who had worked since he was 15 dealing with being blacklisted by his former employer to the point where no one would consider him for meaningful work.
...but this is still history, almost a generation ago...isn't it?
1985 - My plans to attend a dance at West Point (my alma mater) with the sister of a white classmate of mine are ended when she informs me that her brother - someone I've known for 2 years now - had "serious problems" with her dating me. It wasn't because he was concerned about my behavior; it was because I was black. "That's insane," I said to her. "So he and I can fight and die together, side by side, but I can't date his sister?"
"I'm sorry, but that's it exactly" she said to me.
1989 - I returned from a brief overseas trip for Uncle Sam and land at a Florida air force base, with the intention of driving to my home station in New Jersey. The gentlemen at the rental car agency upgraded me to a Lincoln Town Car for the trip as a courtesy. Less than 45 minutes later, I am stopped on Interstate 95 for a "profile search." Apparently, dark skinned males driving luxury cars north on the interstate from Florida are the ones most likely to be carrying narcotics.
"Tell me, officer," I said, "how many of them are wearing Army Class B uniforms, carrying Army orders, and wearing West Point class rings?"
"Don't matter, son," he said. "You fit the profile.
2005 - I am 2+ years into my first Chief Security Officer gig for a financial services firm in Arizona. When I took over the role the shop was failing and we had serious challenges; we now had passed every major audit with zero findings and had tightened our perimeter exponentially. I'm traveling with the Board and the Executive Leadership Team on a tour of India (as I run physical as well as information security). Sitting outside the meeting room, I hear our sexagenarian CFO start discussing information security and the improvements we've made. I remember his concluding sentence to this day:
"I admit, my hope when we posted the job was for someone less...ethnic. But the nigger's good at what he does, I must admit."
...but that's still 15 years ago. Things are better overall, aren't they? Hell, we've had a black president. That's got to count for something...right?
May 2018 - Lolade Siyonbola, a black Yale University graduate student, decided to take a nap in her dorm's common room. A white student, "suspicious" about an innocuous person of color, calls the police.
February 2020 - Ahmaud Arbery, a 25 year-old African-American man, was fatally shot near Brunswick, Georgia while out jogging. Two white residents, Travis and Gregory McMichael, confronted Arbery and shot him because they suspected him of trespassing and committing thefts in the neighborhood. No action was taken against the McMichaels until a video of the incident was released to the public in early May.
.....
I do not condone violence, nor do I support anarchy; however I do understand the anger and the frustration out there.
I agree with those who state that violence and anarchy will not achieve the changes we seek...
...now would someone please tell me what will?
My Dad marched in Selma and registered people to vote; he was arrested and set upon numerous times.
I have served our nation faithfully and willingly. I am neat, well groomed, and well spoken. Yet I am still followed through malls and stopped for Driving While Black in my home state and in other locales in this Great Nation.
Instead of just talking about what will not work, it's time to start figuring out what will. 70+ years of the same problems and challenges, combined with the stressors of a pandemic and its economic toll (especially on minorities) have pushed people to the limit. If we wish to heal, it's time to stop pretending that racism doesn't exist and for us to start having the tough conversations.
Violence is not the answer. Neither is silence.
My two cents...
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