On the Other Side of Freedom: The Case for Hope

To acknowledge the existence of the bully and his accompanying risks is not the same as accepting him as a permanent feature of our world. I know that if we accept trauma and fear, it wins. "Bullies don’t just go away. Their legacies don’t just disappear. The bully must be confronted intentionally, his impact named and addressed. Even so, it seems there’s no clear consensus on how to deal with the bully on our blocks. Do we confront him? Match violence with violence? Do we ignore him, or try to kill him with kindness? I don’t think there’s a silver bullet to handling the bully, no one-size-fits-all strategy. But the right strategy has to be rooted in a context bigger than the immediate one, has to be rooted in more than aiming to end the presence of the bully himself. We must focus on the type of world we want to live in and devise a plan for getting there, as opposed to devising a strategy centered on opposition.

I have grown tired of the notion of an ally. I prefer the language of an “accomplice.” An ally loves you from a distance. An accomplice loves you up close. We need allies to make the transition to accomplices. An ally is someone who has unpacked her personal privilege but hasn’t yet made the link to institutional issues and is not willing to risk anything besides her mental comfort. An accomplice rolls up her sleeves and engages in the work that is beyond her. She’ll march in the streets, yes. But an accomplice also faces her own participation in whiteness, acknowledges it, and then looks beyond that personal acknowledgment to identify how her awareness can be applied to changing the systems and mindsets that prop up the system.

Protest is telling the truth in public. Sometimes protest is telling the truth to a public that isn’t quite ready to hear it. Protest is, in its own way, a storytelling. We use our bodies, our words, our art, and our sounds both to tell the truth about the pain that we endure and to demand the justice that we know is possible. It is meant to build and to force a response.

Hope is the belief that our tomorrows can be better than our todays. Hope is not magic; hope is work.

We need to remind the peers of the bully that they benefit from bullying even if they are not themselves the transgressors. Indeed, they benefit from it, but they are tarnished by it. To chip away at the humanity of select groups is to chip away at humanity itself.

The theory of policing is quite far from the reality of policing. For us, at least, that is.

Faith is the belief that certain outcomes will happen, and hope is the belief that certain outcomes can happen. So when Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. says, "the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice," he is speaking from a place of faith. He is confident that justice is inevitable, even if it may come in another lifetime. Faith is often rooted in the belief of a higher power, in God. Hope on the other hand would mean reframing the statement to say, "The arc of the moral universe is long, and it will bend toward justice, if we bend it. Faith is rooted in certainty, hope is rooted in possibility, and they both require their own different kinds of work.

There’s a double standard to protest in America. Something is different for black people who should dare to ask questions, and further, for those who protest in blackness. Protest in and by black bodies is never deemed legitimate, never deemed worthy of engagement. It seems that we have simply have not earned our grievance, our grievance is illegitimate – we do not deserve sympathy or, ultimately, justice.

A few months following the release of Mapping Police Violence, the Washington Post and the Guardian released their own versions of the database. However, each had certain limitations: the Washington Post, for instance, only included instances of killings by officers who used guns, meaning that if an officer choked someone to death, that death would not be included; the Guardian omitted some off-duty killings. And each of those versions has data going back only as far as 2015, limiting the ability to identify trends and patterns over time. In spite of the challenges, different methodological choices, and the likelihood that a small proportion of police violence incidents slip past media outlets, especially in smaller towns without newspapers or digital media, the overall findings were clear and compelling. We found that police kill twelve hundred people each year in America,* meaning one in every three people killed by a stranger in this country is killed by a police officer.* An additional fifty thousand people are hospitalized each year after being injured by police.* This violence disproportionately impacts black communities. Black people are three times more likely to be killed by police than their white counterparts and are more likely to be unarmed when killed.* Black people are more likely to be stopped, searched, arrested,* and subjected to police use of force.* Police violence is so prevalent in black communities

I am constantly reminding myself that the goal of protest is progress, not simply more protest. Protest, though not the solution, is a precursor to the solution. It creates space that would otherwise not exist, and forces conversations and topics that have been long ignored into the public sphere. It illuminates what our country would rather forget. Protest remains necessary in a country with such ingrained systemic inequity and in which the traditional mechanisms of power have not often benefited marginalized communities without direct pressure.

In fighting to help this country, this world. To be one that is worthy of the beauty of your life, you will undoubtedly experience pain – the normal pain of life and the pain of struggle. But pain is not who you are. You are, and have always been, more than your pain.

Will you stand if you have to stand alone?

You can experience joy and beauty too. If you are not constantly refueling yourself, you'll have nothing to pour into this work.

Friendship and love cannot thrive when trapped in trauma.

We don’t give young people enough credit for being able to make sense of the world around them, to take things in and let things out, to be shaped and to shape the world around them.

Sometimes, when you don’t see yourself in the world, you start to think that you don’t exist.