We pulled up to the gas pump and my son hopped out to go in and use the restroom and look for a snack. My husband got out to start pumping the gas. I'm quickly throwing on my shoes and jumping out of the car. Looking to my son heading in the gas station. Looking at my husband running the credit card in the pump. And I look around the parking lot taking surveillance of the patrons around us. Door. Son. Gas Pump. Husband.
I feel a sense of panic. And I feel frozen. And I stood between the car and the store---making odd small talk with my husband--with one eye on my son now walking into the gas station---until he is pumping the gas and there is no more odd small talk to make and I head into the gas station. And I have somewhat bated breath until we are all in the store together figuring out what snacks we want and then heading to the car together.
The day before? My husband and I stopped for gas heading to Missouri...same kinda gas station...same kinda town. And we got out of our car at the same time that a man got out of his car on the other side of the pump. I see him glance. Once. Twice. And I hover. I hover around the car until my husband starts to pump the gas and he and the man are making a little small talk. Then I breathe and I enter the gas station.
I let my husband and son know that how I hate being at gas stations and they separate. Because I want to stay at the pump with my husband. And I want to go in the gas station with my son. I want to see and hear if anything crazy pops off. I want to intervene if someone says something horrible. I want to be near if any officers show up. I want to keep them safe.
I know that none of us can guarantee another person's safety...so I'm asking you to refrain from sharing the stranger danger kind of 'I know just how you feel' stories.
I could list names upon names upon names and show videos upon videos that would curl your stomach and make your heart ache....of men, women and children being murdered by the police, by everyday citizens....and there would be so very, very few who paid any kind of legal consequence because of their actions. And there would be person after person, comment after comment of the many many justifying reasons and excuses that they deserved to die or they somehow brought it on upon themselves.
I could.
But I'm too tired.
Because you see...I have a husband and sons to keep alive.
And the reality is that I can't.
And the reality is also that some days....some days that weighs so heavy in the deepest part of my heart that I just don't have the desire to verbally spar with others or help you understand. I don't have the patience to reassure you that yes, I know there are good officers and I know there are nice white people and yes, my mom is white and no, I haven't forgotten that means I'm white too. I don't have the heart to 'stand strong' and face adversity with 'peace and a desire for harmony' although I do understand your need to remind me of those things. I don't have the stomach to listen to one more MLK quote or the many suggestions of very nice and sweet pacifist ways to make a point without belittling others. I don't have energy to let you know what you can do to step up--figure it the fuck out yourself.
Because you see....I have a husband and sons to keep alive.
And the reality is that I can't.
Because if they
walk down the street,
play at a playground,
buy a hot CD,
wear a hoodie,
listen to their music too loud,
have a tail light out,
stop for directions,
seek help after a car accident,
enter our home,
they could be shot.
They could die.
And if that bullet comes? There is absolutely I can do to stop it. But I will 100% die trying.
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