Feelings about Ferguson
Written by Dan McDonald
I have come to recognize that an
effective blog uses photographs and graphics as well as words to convey a
message. I started planning a blog on the events in Ferguson by looking for the
right photographs to set up my article. I decided in this instance not to do
that. I felt like using the images of the people in the actual photographs
taken from Ferguson to enhance the effectiveness of my blog would be an act of
theft. I will allow the people that have been impacted directly by the events
in Ferguson to speak for their own images. I will settle for an ineffective
blog that simply expresses my feelings and thoughts that have swirled in my
mind and heart since the evening Michael Brown was shot and killed and his body
left on the street for more than four hours.
The overwhelming sense I have felt
is the realization that I as a white American live in a different nation with a
different history than black Americans. I did not believe that a few years ago,
and I never felt that as clearly as I do now because the events in Ferguson as
I understand them have shaken me to the core.
What do I mean by saying that I who
am white live in a different nation with a different history than one who is
black?
In my white nation when we speak of
our history we speak of how our ancestors came as immigrants freely and by
choice to America, looking for liberties or opportunities. I can tell you that my
Mom’s Dad was born near Glace Bay in Nova Scotia, and my Mom’s Mom was born in
Glasgow, Scotland. I know that my Dad’s Dad was born in Ohio and my Dad’s Mom
was born in Saxony, a province in Germany. They all made their journeys to
America by choice. They generally had the ability to save up some money to use
when they started their new lives in America.
Black ancestors usually did not
choose to come to America. They were not able to save money for their journey
and new beginning in America. Instead they were kidnapped in Africa sold to
slave traders, held in chains in packed cargo holds and sent across the
Atlantic Ocean until they were unloaded and auctioned to the highest bidder.
They never had a chance to use their life savings from the old country to make
a smoother transition to the new world.
Our histories were different in the
way we were shaped to view law enforcement agencies. My father was not one to
imagine that policemen were necessarily more honorable than others. He became
an adult in the Great Depression era and knew too many stories of men who came
into a town as strike breakers and remained in the town as policemen. But even
so, he would teach us that if we were in a strange town and needed directions
to look for someone in a policeman’s uniform for they would usually be helpful.
But African-Americans had a different
history with America’s law enforcement. In the days of slavery, there were
officials in both free and slave states trying to make sure escaped slaves were
returned to their Masters because they had a duty to enforce the Fugitive Slave
Act. After the Civil War, until the Civil Rights era African-Americans felt the
brunt of law enforcement’s attempt to enforce segregation policies. After the
Civil Rights Acts passage, blacks were often treated as suspects by law
enforcement personnel. I can remember, to my shame one evening how I sort of
felt fear when four young black men walked into a convenience store where I was
shopping. The fear must have shown on my face for one of the young men spoke to
me very politely. I realized how racial stereotyping had taken over my heart in
a moment. If the young men had been white I would never have thought anything
of their presence in a convenience store. These young men were each
well-behaved and polite but because they were black I had a sense of concern. I
am ashamed that was how I responded many years ago. I am grateful that one of
these four young men spoke politely to me so that I could never forget either
my racial stereotyping or ever lose the sense of how wrong my stereotyping was.
The reports of what happened in Ferguson,
don’t allow me to feel confident in the Ferguson Police Department. It seems
strange that a city where seventy percent of its residents are black should be
policed by a department almost completely white. There were at least three
persons claiming to be eye-witnesses of the shooting. The body was allowed to
remain in the middle of the street for more than four hours. Then there is the
story The Daily Beast
reported regarding the claim by one Henry Davis that four Ferguson policemen brutally
beat him. Medical records showed that Davis suffered a concussion near the time
of the incident. The four policemen filed affidavits that Davis had attacked
them and transferred blood upon their uniforms. The affidavits were legal
testimony capable of being used in court and the penalty for lying on an
affidavit was perjury. Even so when the officers gave testimony in court every
one of the four denied ever seeing Davis bleeding or ever having any blood on
their uniforms. When Davis’ attorney questioned them regarding the affidavits
they had filed each officer acknowledged they had signed the affidavits but
that the affidavits were incorrect. The court decided these were minor offenses
so the fraudulent or mistaken affidavits were never treated as perjury. Davis’
attorney had filed an appeal in the case, and it is widely believed that the
next court might look a bit more intensely at this evidence than the earlier
court.
I believe that progress has been
made regarding racial relations in America. I also believe not as much progress
has been made as I thought had occurred if you had asked me a year ago. I also
believe that what a young black man will face in dealing with too many law enforcement
units in America differs greatly from what a young white man will typically face.
I never before realized how there are two Americas, with two histories, and two
different sets of expectations regarding how society will treat them.
I am still thinking about how I will
respond to these feelings. I have some ideas. I will write another blog in a
few days to express my response plan. But for now this realization is still painfully
making its presence felt within my conscience and inner being.
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