Written by Serie McDougal
The Master’s Language The pioneering Black Psychologist Dr. Bobby Wright once made the statement that “Lynching by Another Name is Still Lynching.” The history of lynching helps us understand the killing of Eric Garner whose life was taken when a New York City Police officer put him in an illegal choke hold on a Staten Island street last week. Lynching involves murdering a person by mob action without a lawful trial. Like many years ago, today, those who perpetrate such actions (Law Enforcement and Media) have developed several tactics in the wake of incidents of police brutality (excessive force) including the use of neutral language, the isolated incident theory, the one man theory, and victimology misdirection. In the wake of the killing of Eric Garner, by the New York Police Department (NYPD), it is important for the communities of people of African ancestry to define their own experiences in their own historical context. Countless articles on Eric Garner make use of highly anesthetized language to describe what happened to him. Journalist have used phrases such as “the Death of Eric Garner,” “Garner’s Death Prompted Outrage,” or “Fallout from the Death of Eric Garner.” If we only speak of “death,” then there is no apparent perpetrator or victim. The fact is that he was “killed,” and acknowledging killing shifts the focus from his condition to the cause and the perpetrator of his death. Moreover, Garner was killed by mob action without a lawful trial. Garner was lynched, unless the police uniforms of the officers who killed him absolves them of the illegality of their tactics and the on-scene paramedics of their negligence. The “Isolated” Incident Theory According to the Bureau of Justice Statistics (BJS) African Americans are 3-times more likely to experience police force than Whites. According to the International Association of Chiefs of Police report on Excessive Police Force in America, from 1995-2000, there were almost 10, 000 cases of police use of excessive force, moreover, African Americans made of 47% of them, and 84% of the abuses where committed by White officers. We also know that African Americans with darker skin, broader noses, and fuller lips are more likely to receive harsher sentences than African Americans with lighter skin, narrower noses, and thinner lips (Eberhardt, 2006). Racial discrimination and the disproportionality it produces in the criminal justice system is no secret. In fact, many have the belief that the police in many cases represent the principal of justice only in the abstract. Many people view the police as illegitimate and untrustworthy. Because of this, racist police have undermined their own ability to carry out law enforcement and have become the source of the very resentment they are confronted with. The NYPD are in no position to demand public confidence and cooperation while incessantly and predictably using excessive force and engaging in poor officer conduct. Attempts to hide behind descriptions of police killings as “isolated incidents” are easily contradicted by statistics demonstrating that these so-called isolated incidents are actually trending patterns that are occurring with remarkable consistency, regularity and escalation. They are only isolated when people refuse to look at them in the context of other incidents. In short, these incidents become isolated when people “isolate” them. The media in many cases plays a role in creating the belief that such cases are isolated incidents. Bobby Wright reminds us all of the old mental health idiom, “the greatest pathology in the world is for people to believe in something just because they wish it to be so.” Science, on the other hand, demonstrates that excessive force as an ongoing trend, and the idea of the “isolated incident” is the delusion of fools. The One Man Theory The FBI touts its “one man theory,” most often seen in political assassinations. The theory asserts that the sole responsibility for high profile killings is one person. However, the theory is also relevant in acts of racialized violence, especially when the victim is Black. This past week the NYPD made announcements to take such radical actions as conducting “speedy investigations,” and aggressive “reviews” of the officers’ behavior and police records of abuse. Most notably, the officer who appeared to use a choke hold has been stripped of his badge and gun, and an officer who helped hold down Mr. Garner has been placed on desk duty. Are racist police now shaking in their boots or is this a drop in the bucket with not institutional change? The officer who placed the illegal choke hold on Garner being stripped of his badge is a reason to be encouraged but not satisfied or content. This is the one man theory in action. When systemic institutional abuse occurs, law enforcement and the media institute the one man theory that one person is responsible, the abuse is not institutional, and punishing the “bad” officer will resolve the problem. Problem solved, everyone can go home now, right? This familiar, but transparent tactic is used to take attention away from the culture of violence evidenced by rising complaints of NYPD misconduct and their subsequent dismissal of those complaints. Victimology Misdirection One thing that western society has developed in order to absolve itself from responsibility for racial violence is the study of the victim. Law enforcement and media attempt to make the victim responsible for his or her own victimization. For example, “If Mr. Garner had obeyed the officers’ commands and complied with the arrest the situation would never have happened.” In fact, Black’s (1971) research points out that African Americans were more likely to be disrespectful to the police than whites. However, this is the perspective of the police, and it helps them to justify their abuses to the untrained ear. What this research does not account for is what White, Cox, and Basehart’s research shows; officers are often rude, discourteous, use profanity, racial, gender, and ethnic epithets, refuse to answer civilians legitimate questions and criticisms. African Americans often make these complaints about police. So there is a reason for the quality of interaction between African Americans and police, and it is also rooted in the history of police abuse of African American civilians. Moreover, this entire ploy is a misdirection in-and-of-itself. Attempting to place the public’s focus on the behavior of the victim is used to take attention off of the role of the perpetrator (the officers). Whether or not Jordan Davis’s music was too loud, whether or not Trayvon smoked marijuana, and whether or not Rodney King was speeding in his car does not excuse their murders. After-all, the consequences for selling cigarettes is not public killing by strangulation with no trial. If we are not talking about that, then we have been duped. If after the death of Mr. Garner, you find yourself in heated discussions about the critical nature of whether or not he was selling a cigarette, you’ve been had. Even during the late 1800’s, when Black people were lynched in large numbers, the White terrorists who did it came up with frivolous reasons such as some symbolic form or disrespect, allegations of sleeping with a White woman, achieving economic success, or just being Negroes. If Black people allow themselves to be misdirected by the tricks of neutral language, the isolated incident ploy, the one man theory, and the victimology ruse then their abusers will have been successful at continuing their centuries long terrorist bloodletting of Black communities. Moreover, they will never be held accountable never having to discuss institution level changes such as: zero tolerance policies for police abuse, empowering community policing boards for quality of life crimes, harsher penalties for violating excessive force policies and officer conduct policies, and investigating more citizen complaints. More than anything, what the NYPD and other forces with abusive records have to worry about, is the old saying that force begets counter-force. The police who engage in this behavior have earned their entire force (deserving or undeserving) the reputations of monsters. With the blood of Eric Garner and so many of their other victims dripping from their uniforms, they cannot expect peaceful police\community relationships. Thanks to video footage, this shame is hard to hide and let blow over. In the age of social media, people will play the video of his killing over and over each time getting a glimpse into the depths of the racialized brutality that law enforcement is capable of. Anger builds and the tears well up in the eyes of those who witness the shame and the true value placed on the life of Mr. Garner and so many others who look like him. All this, followed by media and law enforcement representatives engaging in acrobatic distortions of reality to justify or excuse the actions. All of these things make it difficult for people to respond to the notion of an “officer friendly” with anything other than hysterical laughter. The taking of an individual badge is not enough. Law enforcement should learn from the Vatican that well-intended work will be overlooked when it is accompanied by unchecked systemic and ongoing abuse. WORKS CITED Eberhardt, J. L., Davies, P. G., Purdie-Vaughns, V. J., & Johnson, S. I. (2006). Looking deathworthy: perceived stereotypicality of Black defendants predicts capital-sentencing outcomes. Psychological Science, 17 (5), 383-386. Black, D. (1971). The social organization of arrest 23 Stan. L. Rev. 1087 at 1106 [Black, "Social Organization"]; Egon Bittner, "The Police on Skid-Row: A Study of Peace Keeping" (1967) 32 American Sociological Review 699 - 702. Written by Shanita Ealey 12 YEARS A SLAVE: A REMINDER OF OUR PRESENT DAY CONDITIONS A dramatic shift from Quentin Tarantino’s over embellished depiction of the antebellum south, Steve McQueen’s “12 Years a Slave” has received mass praise for its star studded cast but more importantly for its brutal authenticity. Not only is it a visual retelling of the real life circumstances of Solomon Northup’s journey in and out of forced captivity but it is told through the lens of British-Grenadian director Steve McQueen which adds to its credibility. In a time where appropriation of Black culture has become a sickening norm and Black cultural production/reproduction is somehow in the hands of those who are not Black, the fact that McQueen is a Black man is significant and may be a reason why the film resonated with many. Needless to say, it was (by all accounts) a real film. Perhaps a little too real. For some. For those who are made uncomfortable by seeing films that document the atrocities committed against Black persons, I wonder what exactly were their expectations prior to buying the tickets? A friend of mine overheard an exchange between two white women that go as follows: Woman A: “I’m really sorry for bringing you to this depressing movie. Let’s go back to the bar. I owe you a drink” Woman B: “Make it a bourbon” This is slightly confusing. Did they not know what movie they were walking into? Perhaps they were given the wrong tickets and thought they were going to see Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs 2. Or are they just completely ignorant of the atrocities committed against Black bodies in the antebellum south? The answers to these questions may never come to light but what is interesting is the way in which they are able to utilize that ever so handy off switch. They were able to sit in the movie (with the hopes of being entertained) and then when it was over proceed with their daily routine. This apathetic disconnect between Whites and the Black experience is a phenomenon that has been normalized over centuries by mass propaganda that justifies the ill treatment of Black persons. It is interesting because the interaction between the two women to the film and its “depressing” nature is the contemporary parallel to Master Ford’s wife disdain/intolerance for Eliza’s vocal suffering. Unfortunately, for Black people living in the American context, the figurative off switch is simply never an option. McQueen’s poignant retelling of Soloman’s story is even more powerful when compared with contemporary systems and actions of oppression. Have the laws and ways of thinking really changed that much if “stand your ground” laws exist, enabling men like Zimmerman to get away with the execution of Trayvon Martin or Renisha McBride. Police executions that happen daily with seemingly no rightful are nothing more than modern day lynchings exchanging nooses for guns. Post racialist and those who like to live in perpetual states of oblivion have a tendency to view these kind of films with an unwarranted satisfaction. And use it as a way to argue “how far we have come.” You know, the idea of progress. This is a delusional and misguided perception of the way in which the the American society functions. Thus, McQueen’s film becomes just another reminder of our present day condition and just how much progress was actually made. On another note, as I watched Soloman’s freedom stolen from him, Eliza’s children ripped from her arms, the raping/beating/whipping of Patsy, and the absence of a father for 12 years, it made me think of resilience and how it is used when talking about persons and the Black experience, and how this word by focusing on the people fails to truly illuminate the severity of the conditions imposed on Black persons. Eliza’s reaction to Soloman when he told her to “stop your wailing’ is a perfect example for deconstructing the polemic around resilience and Black persons. Why is it that we are told to bottle up are responses to pretty horrific situations? Do you tell a child who falls off a tree and breaks their leg to stop crying? Probably not. We as a collective are completely within our right to be angry, sad, or infuriated. The resilience is partially appropriate but it does not completely capture the severity of the Black experience in the antebellum south and the resulting systems, actions, and attitudes of oppression that have stepped in to fill the shoes of legalized enslavement. Yes, we as a community and people are strong and have endured. We are still standing in spite of centuries of debilitating institutionalized oppression that is always at work. At work stripping us of our culture, sense of self, and identity. At work committing daily executions and acts of violence against Black men and women without bringing justice to the perpetrators. Resilience may be word used to describe our strength but it may also be a term that takes away from the severity of the conditions our ancestors experienced and we are still currently experiencing. A more fitting term to describe the Black experience is that we continuing to live with an unaddressed trauma. We are living with centuries of trauma that continue to manifest/proliferate in this new millennium. Being strong or having to play the game in order to survive another day doesn't change how fundamentally messed up the American society is. It doesn't change that we are still dealing with psychological, institutional, and physical acts of racism and oppression. Just as Eliza told Solomon just because Ford trusted your carpentry advice and "rewarded" him with a violin (not freedom) does not change his current condition or his role. Ford is still a slaveholder and Solomon is his captive. And whether we are strong enough to endure maltreatment is besides the point. As our rights continue to be stripped away and bodies stripped of life, 12 Years A Slave serves as crystal clear mirror reflecting back at us, Black persons living in America, the nature of our current conditions which hardly resembles progress let alone freedom. Written by Chris Roberts Black life matters. I was 20 years old when Oscar Grant was shot in his back, unarmed with his face adjacent to the concrete. Concrete that to this day is marred with the hole from the bullet that pierced his skin. I did not know that in the following years I would come to live in Oakland, that I would come to live moments of my life in the same train station where Oscar Grant had his taken away. Extra-judicial killing of Black youth in the United States is nothing new, in fact, it is as American as the stars and stripes. The poignancy in Grant’s story is that it reminds us, being Black and breathing is often all the reason necessary for one to be deemed a threat to humanity. Ryan Coogler’s Frutivale Stationgrounds its audience in the humanity of Oscar Grant. Coogler lays the bricks of Grant’s dynamism throughout the film, cementing this work as a seminal piece of art in the discourse of Blackness in the 21st century. Right at the onset of the film, Coogler introduces us to Grant (played by Michael B. Jordan) in a way where we are privy to his struggles and flaws as a human being. This is important because within the first five minutes we see Oscar not as an idealistic, or cookie-cutter image of a Black man made digestible, but rather a representation him in his raw, unfiltered essence. Furthermore, this counteracts the U.S. centered narrative of connecting “mattering” to violence enacted upon Black lives only when the victim is a “perfect kid,” an “honors student,” or something of that nature. Coogler does not predicate Grant’s humanity on his assimilation into white society. Oscar as a Black man existed, therefore he was human, and therefore he mattered. The film takes place over the course of New Years Eve 2008, and the early hours of 2009, so in total it covers less than 24 hours. While watching I could not help but be reminded of the song by Mase, Black Rob, DMX, and The Lox 24 Hours to Live (1998). In this song, each of the artists ruminates on how they would spend their final hours, listing activities from the mundane to the essential. For example,“explain to my son and my girl that I love em” is one exuberant claim from DMX on this track. While reflecting on DMX’s words, I wonder what Oscar’s response would have been to the question “If you had 24 hours to live, just think, where would you go, what would you do, and who would you want to notify?” In the film, Coogler, though not answering the aforementioned question directly, does illustrate to the viewer those who Oscar cares most deeply for in his life. The three women that represent purpose and motivation to Oscar in the movie are his mother, his girlfriend, and his daughter. Each woman occupying a different corner of the room of Grant’s soul; where he stores his hopes and his dreams. His girlfriend Sophina though often frustrated and annoyed with Oscar, knew that he was genuine in his care for their family. His mother, though disappointed in her son’s struggles and short-sightedness, knew the potential in the young man she raised. His daughter, though sad that Daddy wasn’t already around, knew that she was the world in her father’s eyes, and that her happiness was crucial to him. In each of these spaces Oscar was different. As actor Michael B. Jordan states in an interview with Black Tree Media “Oscar was a different person to many of the people in his life, and all of those parts of him were true.” This revelation reminds the audience that Blackness is not a monolith, the humanity and existence of Black people is not isolated to the myopic perceptions rendered normal by white society. We come layered, flawed, awesome, and beautiful. And in Fruitvale Station, Coogler captures that dynamism exceptionally well. One of the things I appreciate most about Coogler’s construction (and Jordan’s portrayal) of Grant is that we see that he is a caring person. The scene where Grant cares for the dog that is struck by a car is a pivotal moment, there we see Grant express intense emotion for something that is not himself. By doing that, we are shown that “someone like Oscar” who stereotypically would be viewed as being selfish and inherently violent is actually, inherently loving. This reimagines Black men as not the perpetrators of violence, but as the lovers of life and existence. This expression of Oscar as loving is extended further when we see his interactions with his daughter, which I would argue are the most soul piercing moments of the film. Oscar loves his daughter without hesitation, without doubt, and without prompting. Not only is Oscar a present Black man in the life of his daughter. He, in this film, is an exceptional Black father. In an interview with the Los Angeles Times, Coogler states: “Film is a motif, How environments have an effect on characters. The BART station is an institutional environment, the hospital is an institutional environment, the store he works at is an institutional environment [the prison he’s in]. These institutional environments, although they’re there under the guise of helping people… For characters like Oscar, for people like Oscar, these institutional environments don’t help us, often times they harm us… that became a motif in the film. [Contrasting] seeing him in his domestic environments and these environments.” – Los Angeles Times Interview (2013) The directors use of institutional environment as a corollary for the ways that Black bodies experience institutional racism is genius. Larry Neal in 1968 wrote of Black art that it is “art that speaks directly to the needs and aspirations of Black America.” And by highlighting racial profiling, socioeconomic impression, and the brutality of the police state Coogler has his pulse on what Black people in the United States need to see today. “I want to make movies that I care about deeply.” That is what Coogler told Black Tree Media in an interview about this film. I would contend that not only Coogelr, but all Black people in the world should care deeply about this film. It is not just Oscar’s story, it is our story. In the closing moments of the film we see Tatiana, in real life, at an event in honor of her father. It is here, that Coogler depicts the convergence of the ancestral and the immediate that permeates Africana experiences. The scene begins with a shot of a crowd of community members huddled in an intimate space at BART. This tells the viewer that what we are witnessing was to be experienced by a collective, not an individual. Next, we see the pouring of water from a jug by an event participant, which is a direct exemplification of the African tradition of pouring libations. Libations create space and pathways for our ancestors to be acknowledged by, and join us, in the experience to come (in this case the event commemorating Oscar Grant). Culture is intertwined with how Black people heal, how we revere, and how we honor. The person who is holding Tatiana is also wearing a necklace with beads adorning it that are red, black, and green. Those colors are representative of the Pan-African flag designed in 1920 by the United Negro Improvement Association and African Communities League, and speak to a cultural continuity and connection among people of African descent all over the world. Oscar’s daughter being Black and Mexican, constructing her own narrative of Blackness and identity, shows here that through culture that she can cultivate healing spaces. By capturing this moment, Coogler illustrates; healing that resonates is collective, and the traditions of Africana people are ripe for opportunities to empower both the individual, and the community. |
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