Perhaps as evidenced by my lack of postings, I am feeling weary and tired of all the strife in the world, and in our homeland particularly. Sandra Bland's death kind of pushed me over the edge. I also watched two interviews with author Ta-Nehisi Coates on his new book called
Between the World and Me. How discouraged he is by the state of race relations in our country. And not without good reason. I went to our public library and requested they order it. They did, and I will get to be the first one to check in out. Then. Then.
I had to unplug. I was feeling guilty for doing that, for taking care of myself. There are many who don't have that luxury. So imagine my relief when I read this column by a writer who is African American, Sesali B./
Feministing .
I
have to confess: I have tried my best to stay as far away as
possible from the Sandra Bland story. I haven’t read any articles. I’ve
refused to press play on the video footage of her traffic stop. I’ve
even scrolled past tribute posts dedicated to her, not out of disrespect
or apathy, but for self preservation. The snippets of information that I
have seen on social media told me everything I needed to know. A
routine traffic stop ended badly for a Black woman. The woman’s name is Sandra Bland.
Bland was found dead in her jail cell. And today, her death was ruled a
suicide. Unfortunately, I feel competent enough to fill in the blanks,
despite wishing I wasn’t.
The media coverage of state violence and death against Black people
since the 2012 murder of Trayvon Martin has been overwhelming, to say
the least. The sheer number of publicized incidents combined with the
saturation of those stories across media outlets makes it inescapable.
When news of Martin’s murder began to circulate in 2012, many people
grieved the loss of a child, but another affect that seemed to be
circulating was hope. We were relieved that the death of a Black
teenager was finally being taken seriously. We rallied for the law and
the media to go all the way with this story; to be honest about a flawed
and racist justice system and the realities of anti-Blackness in this
country. The mass coverage of Martin’s death and the subsequent trial of
George Zimmerman, and the affect of hope that followed, provided enough
traction to launch what is being called today’s civil rights movement,
Black Lives Matter.
The death of Sandra Bland, has been the latest in a string of stories
about police brutality, neglect, violence, and mistreatment by police,
against Black people. Mainstream news coverage of these events is
certainly enough to trigger, and in many cases terrify, Black viewers.
And I think this is only intensified for Black bloggers, activists,
journalists, and other Black people who have to follow these stories
more closely. We are constantly combing through different accounts,
stories, profiles, documents, photos, and videos looking for new angles,
figuring out what’s missing from certain narratives, and coming up with
fresh takes. The pressure to have an opinion about everything that has
made its way into the media circuit already requires a certain kind of
emotional labor that is taxing on its own. But this burden is certainly
exacerbated when the stories are so applicable to our own lives.
For many of us, the story of Sandra Bland isn’t a distant report out
of Texas. It isn’t material for a casual conversations about the legal
system. It’s not material for a murder mystery dinner. For us this is
actually the same thing that happened to our cousin, our friend, our
lover, our classmate, our sibling, our parent, our child, or someone
else we know/knew. When a pre-teen Black girl is assaulted by a police officer at a pool party, or another officer shoots an unarmed man in the back and then lies about it,
it is more than “news” to us. It’s something that some of us have
experienced first hand in our communities. While the work requires some
of us to immerse ourselves in the grisly details and pour all of
ourselves into these horrifying stories in order to meet deadlines, they
aren’t the kind of topics that go away when we close our laptops.
And following the release of today’s autopsy report in the Sandra
Bland story, my timeline confirmed the affects that I have recognized
for a while now as anti-Black terrorism continues to run rampant: fear
and weariness. More than calls to rise up and fight, my friends are
finding it hard to concentrate at work. They are consumed by the idea
that things will never change for Black folks. We are all pissed. But
more than anger, we are fucking tired and scared. We are worried. Case
in point:
I was pulled over a couple of weeks ago for a moving violation I
didn’t commit. I was in the car with three friends of mine – one of them
Black in the passenger seat, the other two non-Black women of color in
the back, while I drove. My friends in the back seat were obviously
upset and angry that we were pulled over on a bogus violation. It
angered them that the police officer flashed lights inside the car as if
searching for some illegal contraband that he was sure we had. They
were livid when when I received two tickets. But after awkwardly ‘yes,
sir’ing the officer in a silent plea to not perceive me as threatening,
my Black friend and I let out a simultaneous sigh of relief when we were
able to drive away. Because from the moment we saw flashing lights, she
and I knew how bad things could get. This was no teachable moment, nor
was it an opportunity to resist the system. For the two us, it had
become a matter of life and death. I knew that my work or school
affiliations, publications, number of followers, awards, resumes, or
networks would not have stopped that officer from harming me.
It is important to understand how anti-Black terrorism feels like an
imminent threat more than a statistical possibility for Black people. It
is a haunting threat that is rewritten into our consciousness as we
read story after story or murder and assault. And for me at least, the
burden of fear is enough of for me to bear without also having to
succinctly articulate the gendered and racialized politics of anti-Black
violence. So for those of you who can, I implore you to take care of
yourself. Take advantage of any opportunities to unplug, detach, and
hopefully heal.
