The tragedies of Ahmaud Arbery and Breonna Taylor have been circulating lately and are causing a lot of uproar across media outlets. Unfortunately, I’ve seen this pattern before … We become outraged, create hashtags, protest (COVID-19 has stifled those efforts) and eventually the attention from major news outlets dies down without any legislation passed to prevent these tragedies from happening again. Every time these news stories come up, I feel we are never all on the same page. While the African American community highlights these cases as more examples of the systemic injustices in our community, the majority of the country seems to treat them as isolated events. However, these cases are not rare. Most African Americans can account instances like these in our own communities and can recall personal experiences of racial profiling and injustices.

My first direct encounter with this came when I was 12 years old. My mom and I were traveling to Washington D.C and decided to stop at a gas station to refuel and take a bathroom break. I went inside and walked past the candy isle, admittedly wide eyed since I was not allowed to eat much candy. When I finished using the bathroom and was about to head out the door, the store clerk grabbed my arm and yelled at me and asked if I had stolen anything. I was startled, confused, and scared. I shook my head and told him no. However, instead of letting me leave, he blocked the door, lifted my shirt, patted me down, and checked all my pockets - searching for stolen items. I will never forget the feeling of fear and helplessness as tears ran down my face. When he didn’t find anything, he told me I could go. I ran to the car panic-stricken and crying, and pleaded with my mom to leave immediately. She took one look at my face, which was noticeably shaken, and asked me what happened. I asked her to drive away first, then I would explain … but she refused. After I recounted the incident, my mother closed her eyes and sat quietly, then tearfully looked at me and said she was relieved I didn’t fight back. She understood the reality of the situation: it was late at night and no one else was in the store or parking lot. If anything had happened to me, it was our word against theirs; this historically never ends in our favor. No 12-year-old should ever have to contemplate whether defending themselves is worth losing their life. There was no good option… we ended up driving away.

The fear of being racially profiled has affected almost every aspect of my life. As a kid, my mother never allowed me to play with toy guns because she knew how different my actions could be perceived, long before the case of Tamir Rice. I always keep a copy of my registration in my wallet in case I get stopped by the police because of cases like Philando Castile. When running long distances, I never forget to bring my ID in case I’m stopped by the police or something happens to me and I need to be identified - like Ahmaud Arbury. And even if someone assaults me, I am hesitant to defend myself out of fear of becoming the next Trayvon Martin.

I have always been taught to watch what I say, how I say it, and who I say it to, to minimize my likelihood of becoming the next hashtag. I have accepted that even if my actions mirror my peers, society will often perceive them differently because of the color of my skin. It is hard to understand the daily apprehensions and fears that African Americans experience, unless you walk in our shoes.

If you find yourself asking, “what can I do to help?”, it’s important to understand that systemic injustices started way before the hashtags were created, and persist long after the headlines fade away. Thus, focusing your outrage on isolated events does not resolve the root of the problem. Evoking long term change requires constant advocacy. This means:

Listening and trying to understand perspectives, opposed to dismissing and devaluing different experiences.
Accepting that my reality and your perception might be vastly different.
Speaking up when you see injustices, instead of simply being a bystander. Silence is often interpreted as approval.
Understanding your position in society and using your privilege to help elevate minority voices who often go unheard.
Advocating for legislation that helps to mitigate racial biases and inequities.

This also means realizing that the movement should not stop once the latest trial ends and a verdict has been reached. The goal should be to stop the next hashtag from occurring.

#AhmaudArbery #BreonnaTaylor #PhilandoCastile #SeanReed #FreddieGray #SamDubose #PhilandoCastile #TerenceCrutcher #AltonSterling #JamarClark #JeremyMcDole #WilliamChapmanII #WalterScott #EricHarris #TamirRice #AkaiGurley #MichaelBrown #SandraBland #EricGarder #JordanEdwards