When They See Us…
posted by Law | September 18, 2019 | In News, OpinionThe bird songs of Black Twitter’s Black Lives Matter are silent. The warrior kings and queens of African American communities, known to most as simply “the hood,” lie dormant, awaiting the call to rally around a slain body or social injustice of another Black Sista or Brotha.
My passion was awakened through the work of director/producer/Black Girl Magician Ava DuVernay’s When They See Us, a four-part Netflix mini-series. The series is painfully reflective of America’s instinct to devour Black– and Brown–skinned Americans. It is also a mirror and a combustible catalyst for necessary conversations.
Thirty years ago, in the neighborhood of Harlem, five young boys were hunted, prosecuted, and labeled rapists and criminals, largely because of the color of their skin and sadly because of the communities from which they came. This has become our norm.
Are we mad or naw? How do you plan to navigate this New America, or is it new?
The Voice sat down with some students to work through reactions to the mini-series.
Why are we still the targets of abuse, injustice, and brutality?
“A lot of that could be prevented,” said Adrian Norwood, 21, while the voices of Trayvon Martin, Sandra Bland, and Michael Brown bellow from the other side, “It’s not my time to die.”
How do you survive?
Devin Norwood, 21, recalling his first traffic stop: “I was very cooperative, my hands at ten and two, license and registration in hand. I’ve seen too many videos; I didn’t wanna be a statistic. I didn’t wanna die.”
We are still dying in these streets. Bullets propelled by fear, anger, and in some cases racism, free souls from adolescent Black– and Brown–skinned bodies regularly. The power of stereotypes is exponentially greater for the white cops, who serve and protect in predominantly Black neighborhoods.
Micah Whitehurst, 21, recalled words from his father: “Son, this is what you’re gonna have to deal with for the rest of your life.”
Do we?
When They See Us is a befitting title. It was relevant in 1989, and it, sadly, still is in 2019.
“Things haven’t changed. I’m dark-skinned. I have locks. That’s already two strikes,” said Elijah Henry, 20.
This is true for males and females. In May 2019, according to NBC News, unarmed Pamela Turner, a Black woman in Baytown, Texas, was shot and killed during an altercation with police. “I’m pregnant!” were her final words.
The officer withdrew from her, firing five shots into Pamela, in her seated position.
Was she a threat to the officer? Perhaps he faced the “angry Black woman.” What had he seen? What are you projecting?
“I’m too Black at times. I’m not comfortable in places where I can’t be myself. I see myself, rather people see me or not,” says Keyona Smith, 26.
For young Devan Davis, 26, on his journey to becoming an educator, “I hope they see a professional. I wear my culture. To some, I’m one of them.”
In today’s social climate, we must remember we are Black, or be painfully reminded.
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