You can trace our sympathies to the way we view our systems. In the Arab Spring, when people saw common people coming together against an unjust system, they were activists and heroes. When we see the same thing happening in the streets of Baltimore, based on the blind eye we turn toward our own systems of oppression, we don't see people rising up against a injustice. When protesters destroyed property in Tunisia, it was seen as the dismantling of a corrupt system. In Baltimore, we look for rioters; we look for looters. We begin to shift the conversation from the loss of life and the perpetual fear that exists within the black community by people in positions of power to the destruction of property. Property lost is indeed tragic. It costs people income lost in the time it takes to rebuild, which especially in low income areas can cut into very narrow margins of spending money. It might mean missed rents, possibly eviction, lost jobs. But a lost life is forever. A lost store is not. There is no insurance on a life. There is no social safety net for the dead.
Here's what I know. I lived in Palestine for three months, and the constant tension of living under the threat of Israeli troops, the tensing up and immediately avoiding eye contact, the way my heart beat faster when they entered the area, was real. It was visceral. It was unavoidable. Even as an American. Even knowing that I wasn't in danger of these Israeli forces. Even knowing I had done nothing wrong. I know that by the time I left there, I more than understood the desire to throw rocks. I didn't live there forever, and I always had an out in the form of an American passport. People who live with that kind of fear carry it with them forever. It literally changes which genes are switched on. We might not want to acknowledge it, but people of color, particularly those from low income areas, live with that kind of fear all the time. Constantly. Even knowing they've done nothing wrong. There is a reason that black boys run when they hear cops, even when they are innocent. Our system isn't built to support everyone equally. And that kind of fear isn't something that anyone should have to grow up with. It's unjust in Palestine and it's unjust in Syria and it's unjust in the United States.
It is absolutely shameful that anyone ever even needed to say that #BlackLivesMatter, and that saying it doesn't even begin to make it true for everyone. All lives do matter, and the reason that shift in rhetoric in this particular conversation is because our system doesn't devalue my life as a white woman or the life of a cop in the same way that the life of a black man is devalued. Even if that man is a petty thief, even if that man is behind on child support. It goes without saying that all lives matter. It should go without saying that Black lives matter. But it doesn't, so we need to say it until it becomes true. Black lives matter. Our system is unjust. Crime and poverty are systemic, but first steps in building trust have to come from the people who wield the power. The oppressed cannot be held to the same standards as the oppressor. We need to do better, and we can't do better when we don't want to have these conversations.
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