#12 / Justice For Floyd
Heyyy there,
Changed up the salutation this week, as you can see. Might make a habit of it. The moment calls for a lighter, more familiar greeting. Maybe as an antidote to all the chaos out there.
Speaking of which. So OK, I was going to write about something totally different this week. And I will definitely still finish that and send it later, but Saturday was yet another crazy day in an absolute whiplash of a year, and I feel compelled to say something about it.
I started writing this sitting at home last night, freshly out from under a stay-at-home order, only to be placed under curfew along with the rest of the city of Chicago.
Many of you have heard by now about the murder of George Floyd in Minneapolis on Monday. Floyd, an unarmed black man, was killed by a white police officer, who pinned him to the ground by his neck for nine minutes while he died, and while several other officers stood idly by.
Despite video evidence and a mounting outcry, days went by before the Hennepin County attorney finally arrested and charged the perpetrator. (But only him, and not the other officers.) During that time, protests in Minneapolis, which were initially peacefully and focused on the area around the scene of the crime, became violent and spread throughout the rest of the city. (Important to note: many agitators and looters were from out of state and/or were affiliated with white nationalist groups.)
Throughout the last two days, we have watched videos and read reports of Ashley’s hometown wrapped in flames and wracked by strife. We’ve stayed for multiple visits in an Airbnb that is blocks away from where Floyd was killed. We saw a Target store burning: a symbol of comfort for Ashley and a lot of her friends, being destroyed.
This is all painful, but we know that the property destruction is not the biggest problem in Minneapolis right now, and it is not the biggest problem in any city that is plagued by police brutality (which seems to me to be every city with a police force). The problem is the unjust and white supremacist system that places no value on the lives of black people and provides their killers impunity.
You may also know that I’ve been active with a Jewish social justice organization in Chicago, the Jewish Council on Urban Affairs (JCUA), which formed its police accountability committee in the wake of the 2015 murder of Laquan McDonald (and subsequent cover-up). And so I’m not surprised that the protests and violence have spread from Minneapolis to every major city in the U.S. The wounds of the community are too deep, the silence of those in power is too loud, and, as one rally speaker said, people are “sick and tired of being sick and tired.”
After attending a racial justice training in April 2019, wanting to continue my own education and learn how to be an anti-racist, another member and I co-founded a white person’s racial justice working group within JCUA. I am thankful to have been a part of that group over the past year, because I have a better understanding of the context around which today’s demonstrations are taking place.
In Chicago, the protests began on Friday, with numbers in the hundreds. Saturday the crowds downtown swelled into the thousands. As in Minneapolis, the protests began peacefully but became violent during the afternoon.
By 5 PM, we started to hear that something was up, just as we were preparing to join a Paperny Family Zoom call to celebrate my great-aunt Ruth’s 96th birthday. As part of the festivities, we also had a Cousins Club talent show, at which I read my poem “Pesach Morning.”
This was the first time I’d done something like this in front of the whole family, so I was a little nervous, but mostly excited, and I always get some kind of performance high after reading a piece to a big group. As we were wrapping up the celebration, I tried to stay present as I started getting texts from my colleagues at JCUA about drafting a joint statement from the white person’s working group and from Kol Or, the Jews of Color caucus.
We’ve been looking for ways to bring our two groups closer together, and while I wish these weren’t the circumstances under which it was happening, this is the time. As Black and White Jews coming together to denounce systemic racism and to call on all white people to audit their actions, and to have difficult conversations with other white people, this will be a powerful statement.
Ashley and I quickly transitioned from the family talent show to dinner mode, because we had about an hour until our scheduled movie night with some of our friends from Ashley’s college days. Ashley somehow cooked up an incredible grilled chicken and cauliflower gnocchi dish while also installing a hanging plant in our back room.
Meanwhile I was collaborating on a shared doc that we set up to draft the joint statement, as well as fielding texts from friends with updates on what was happening in downtown Chicago. During dinner and the movie, it was hard to not keep checking in on all of it. By the end of the night, I was emotionally exhausted. I’ve tried following enough news events in real time to know that it doesn’t work for me. It speeds up my brain too much. There was nothing healthy to do with myself except go to sleep.
Today, all indications are that we are in for another tense and eventful night. There’s already been murders in both Chicago and Omaha—a white club owner shot and killed an unarmed black protester—and probably in other cities too. I am overwhelmed and anxious at the prospect of all this, and at the appalling lack of concern that led us here, and at the magnitude of the need for health services and bail money for brutalized protestors, money for legal pressure to ensure that murderers are prosecuted and sentenced, and everything else we need to do to build a more just society.
But I know that my overwhelm and anxiety are not 1/10th what Black, Indigenous, and Persons of Color (BIPOC) are facing today.
It’s sunny and warm outside. The air is suffused with the smell of spring. And our city and our country are on fire. For me, if I want to hide on my porch tonight and watch The Last Dance in peace and quiet, I can do it. Many do not have this privilege. So while I recognize that my feelings are valid, I refuse to use them as an excuse to look away from what is happening and to avoid taking action.
That’s why I insist on writing about this today, right now. There is plenty more I could say, but for now, I just want to encourage you to do what you can to support the cause of anti-racism. Be an anti-racist. I am still learning what that takes, and it will be a life-long duty: I would love to see all of you marching alongside us.
Here are some actions you can take right now.
Donate
- Black Visions Collective is a Black-led political organizing group in Minneapolis
- Reclaim the Block is working to divert funding from police and enforcement toward things like education, community health, and housing.
- There are several community funds for bailing out protestors in cities like Chicago, and there’s also a national directory of funds if you want to find one close to home.
Sign
Petition the Minneapolis City Council to transfer funding from police to community-led health and safety initiatives.
Learn
I’m mainly on Instagram, but there are lots of ways to learn from many of the fantastic educations who are steeped in justice work. Here are two:
Also, Jane Mount of Ideal Bookshelf has created a wonderful illustration full of amazing reads.
Share
Talk about racial justice issues with people in your life. Post on social media, if that’s your thing. Ask questions and be curious. Sit with discomfort and don’t back away from uncomfortable conversations (I’m still a work in progress on this). Articulate what you are seeing. Seek solidarity.
Hugs
It has been a heavy week, but I am mostly okay and some things are good. I hope you are okay and have some good things. I wish I could give you a hug. This article says that perhaps hugging isn’t so risky if you both wear masks and wash your hands afterward.
At first that sounded really sad. What kind of world is this? But now I feel like it’s also an opportunity. How many half-hearted hugs have I given? The answer is: a lot. Probably almost all of them.
If I have to don gear to give a hug, though, and if I have to cleanse myself, I’m going to put some more thought into it. I’m not going to take it for granted. I’m sure as hell going to enjoy it more. I’m going to linger. I’m going to make sure you know that I mean it. Choosing to hug another person will now mean that we are taking a risk to show how much we love someone.
It will be good if hugging becomes more intentional and ritualistic. We ritualize a process in order to invest it with meaning. The first step can be consent. Consent until now has been about respecting someone’s physical space and boundaries. Now, asking someone if you can hug them also shows that you care about their safety.
Consent is love. And I love you.
Mood
Rage Against the Machine — ”Killing in the Name“
It’s the song of the moment.
Some of those that work forces
Are the same that burn crosses
1992 record store performance:
And here is my favorite cover of the song, by Audrey, age 2:
Killing In The Name - song by Rage Against The Machine | Spotify
Rage Against The Machine · Song · 1992
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Thanks for reading. Please take care, and write back if you can!
Love,
Aaron