Update (May 26): The passing of George Floyd in Minneapolis is another heartbreaking tragedy that follows the formula I addressed in my original article and must be inconceivably difficult for his loved ones so our thoughts and prayers are with them as they grapple with their grief, fear, and anger.
Original Article (May 9)
I was reticent to post anything about the Ahmaud Arbery incident for fear of being like so many virtue signalers who use tragedy to convey their sanctimony. Those people suck. But as I wavered on whether or not to write anything, I remembered a conversation I had last year with a Hispanic mentee I have who attends Chicago public high school. He mentioned he was considering joining the military, but that his mom asked him why he would want to die for a country that doesn’t even want him here. If that is the sense of belonging afforded to people of color, then something needs to change if we’re going to posit ourselves a free country.
Before the COVID-19 pandemic, I did not spend much time ruminating on what “freedom” meant to me. Then week after week of compulsory isolation, I couldn’t help but think back to February when I was able to do whatever the hell I wanted. In February, I cavorted to New York City with a buddy, then the next weekend I celebrated Carnaval in Colombia. February was an awesome swan song for the liberties I took for granted. Before the pandemic, I was truly free.
Ahmaud Arbery was shot in February. While I was out gallivanting around, he was gunned down while jogging. There will be people who allege he was “up to no good” (which is an egregiously transparent euphemism) or that they’re going to wait for the facts to come out before they comment on this tragedy. Before the pandemic, Ahmaud was not truly free.
Ahmaud’s death comes in the wake of so many men like him: black, young, and unarmed. Now, I think it is worth noting that the perpetrators of these deaths all had varying degrees of vitriol, but the same level of prejudice. And this is extremely important, because it touches on how racism prevails in 2020 and how it rears its ugly head so insidiously. If all of the suspects we’ve seen take the stand in recent memory were such bombastic, unequivocal white supremacists like Dylan Roof (the Charleston church shooter), the conversation would oddly be far easier.
The thing is… most suspects in these cases are not such unabashed, in-your-face white supremacists. They don’t exude the archetypal villainy of Dicaprio’s character in Django Unchained or Bob Ewell in To Kill a Mockingbird, so emblematic of the Civil War and Jim Crow eras. And in a way, that’s the scary thing. Their defense is not “your honor, I hate an entire race of people.” Rather, it follows a pattern to the tune of “I saw someone I deemed suspicious, I confronted that person, that person reacted incredulously, I was armed and scared, so I shot the suspicious person in self-defense. Race had nothing to do with it.” Self-defense is when somebody breaks into your home and you protect yourself. Self-defense is not, surveilling somebody who is minding his own business or at worst committing a misdemeanor (that I--a 28-year-old white guy—would get at most a fine for), confronting him with a weapon, then shooting him when he does not prostrate himself and apologize for not comporting himself in the way he should. This “defense” somehow has an absurdly high success rate, appealing to the pathos of a jury that is thinking the same thing, just not saying it. As for the victim, I cannot fathom the anxiety I would have if every one of my public actions were put under the microscope of omnipresent judges, juries, and executioners who will determine whether what I am doing is acceptable. If I’m lucky, I’d just be unrightfully harassed, but still alive. That’s not freedom.
At a time when people are storming capitol buildings lamenting that they can’t go bowling or get a haircut, we’ve somehow overlooked the disparate implicit freedoms we shared when things were ostensibly “normal”. As citizens, we need to turn inward and think about how we look at and treat others, and whether we are propagating freedom or only affording it to people we deem desirable. Many of the same people who want to own and carry firearms and “stand their ground” balk at someone else standing his ground when he is confronted with specious accusations. This double standard is almost comically paradoxical. If you stand for freedom you need to take a step back and think about what biases you may harbor and those around you and you need to combat those biases, however awkward it may be. And personally, I don’t think you have to do it in some annoying “white guilt”, soap-boxy kind of way. Just ask yourself: am I treating people with the same respect? Am I accounting for what they’ve gone through in their lives? Am I rushing to judgment on them because I do not share their experiences? You don’t need to wear a beanie and live in Williamsburg to not be part of the problem. Just look at yourself, look at those around you, and don’t be quiet and impotent when people are exhibiting prejudice.
As a country with laws, we need to embody Martin Luther King’s axiom that “an unjust law is no law at all.” Now I interned at a law firm in college before coming to the realization that I would be a pretty abysmal barrister, so I am no authority on how to enact legal changes, but I do know that a system that allows people to precipitate an argument, murder the person they’re arguing with, and walk away scot-free is an inherently unjust system. We need to address these laws the same way we address ourselves. Suspects in these crimes have carte blanche to play judge, jury and executioner, while suspects of color go to prison for non-violent crimes for decades. That’s not freedom.