August Wade
Staff Columnist
Today, I write for an exclusive group of people.
I take liberty to note that directly, as it is typical of me to frame my writing in anticipation of detracting comments, particularly with inflammatory topics. Instead, I dedicate this column to the bravest Americans. They are, in the kindest sense of the word, ordinary, a fact that paradoxically makes them extraordinary. I dedicate this column to each and every American who loves their neighbor, without precondition.
Examine that word: love. I encourage you to seek the functional meaning, not the dictionary definition. To love another person is to have passion for them, to care for them, to be in harmony with them.
Despite the commercialization and romanticization of the word by companies and pop culture, there’s still power in the word, a power seen in actions ranging from great movements to small bits of altruism. While the word and concept are nearly ubiquitous, there are areas of our nation, geographical and metaphysical, too often devoid of love: places like hate groups, our judicial system, family gatherings.
Too often we think of the opposite of love as being hate. To that end, we allocate time, energy and resources to fighting people who will never agree with our views. We waste ourselves shouting at groups like the KKK, neo-nazis and the Westboro Baptist Church. We see them as our opponents and our enemies, as they are, when the real enemies are much closer to home.
In reality, the opposite of love isn’t hate, it’s indifference. Indifference takes many forms: Neutrality in issues of simple justice. Ignorance when being educated. Passivity at times of action.
The St. Louis grand jury’s decision to not indict Darren Wilson for the murder of Michael Brown wasn’t an act of hatred or outright discrimination. To pose it as such is a slight to the truth: It was an act embodying the fluidity of white supremacy in American society.
The fluidity of racism in America and white supremacy means that you no longer need a white hood or a whip to be a white supremacist; you need only be equipped with complacency and indifference in the face of inequality, poverty and suffering. You need only appropriate and capitalize on the culture and goods of others. You need only be the norm of your society. You need only be conservative and moderate when courage presses you to stand for what is moral and just.
The lack of indictment has been a reaffirmation that echoes the founding of the United States, a resounding of the promise that power will always protect power, a verbal monument to the charade of equality and fairness. The failure to indict Wilson is just restating what has been so painfully and violently obvious to Black Americans from the beginning of our lives, a fact evidenced by the complete history of the U.S.: The white establishment — from political groups and the federal government to law enforcement and local businesses — doesn’t love us. They are, by and large, indifferent to our suffering, whether it be financial, judicial or social.
The rule of law governing this country makes too many exceptions in cases of police brutality and is disproportionately biased against persons of color. That’s a fact born out of decades of anecdotal evidence, etching back to the bloodied body of Emmett Till, and quantifiable evidence from a wide variety of institutes and sources. The American flag flies over inherently racist court systems, from racial profiling and the war on drugs to sentencing laws. That same court system refuses to indict law enforcement officials plainly guilty of murderous crimes. That same court system is then asserted as “justice” and the means of oppressed people to exercise their legal rights and legitimize complaints in the form of law.
The failure of nine of 12 Americans to see the overwhelming evidence as an indictment of Officer Wilson is an indictment leveled at the U.S. as a whole, from the federal government to you and I. Their decision reflects our society and our culture, a society built on capitalizing and overlooking what is just in the stead of self-achievement and a culture of simultaneously celebrates and dismisses violence. The lack of justice for Black men and women murdered by police officers is not incidental in relation to our nation, but a reflection of our worst. Our national tragedy has not been the failure to indict Darren Wilson, but the failure to take the steps necessary to prevent the senseless murder of innocent men, women and children at the hands of those who are sworn to protect and serve.
When you go home in the coming days and weeks, I encourage you to be loyal to humanity and profess a love for those that you have never met: Don’t let bigotry spouted by friends and family members go unchallenged; your responsibility to humanity is more important than their feelings. Don’t defend violence perpetuated by law enforcement and government agencies against unarmed, peaceable people. Don’t believe the myth that the crisis facing Blacks in America is not about race, racism or white supremacy.
Last Monday night, VCU students, strangers and friends alike, spoke of empowerment, civility and love for one another at an impromptu protest in the Compass. But simply by letting the system that killed Brown exist, we have all failed him.
I encourage you to internalize that feeling of failure. When we start accepting the acquisition of justice as a personal responsibility, we’re more apt to do what is necessary to ensure that justice prevails.
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