Spacious Solidarity Blog: Day 79

Image created by my friend Vero D. Orozco

Oscar Grant’s life mattered. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter.

Eric Garner’s life mattered. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter.

Michael Brown’s life mattered. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter.

Sandra Bland’s life mattered. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter.

Tamir Rice’s life mattered. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter.

Philandro Castile’s life mattered. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter.

Ahmaud Arbery’s life mattered. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter.

Breonna Taylor’s life mattered. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter.

Sean Reed’s life mattered. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter.

Tony McDade’s life mattered. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter.

George Floyd’s life mattered. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter. Black lives matter.

To research the above I simply googled “Black people killed by police in the USA since 2009.” Why 2009? That was the year I went to my first protest against police brutality.

It was January 7th, 2009, exactly one week after police shot and killed an unarmed Black man in the early hours of New Year’s Day. His name was Oscar Grant. His life mattered.

It’s hard to find a comprehensive list of Black people killed by police in the USA since 2009. There are a lot of articles and facts and figures and graphs and opinions. But it’s hard to find a simple, straightforward list of names.

There is a Wikipedia page that lists everyone killed by police since 2009, but doesn’t give their ethnicity.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lists_of_killings_by_law_enforcement_officers_in_the_United_States

I eventually came across this helpful document.

 https://apps.npr.org/documents/document.html?id=6933593-NPR-CodeSwitch-Saytheirnameslistv3

And as an exercise I read each and every name to see if any of them sounded familiar. With the exception of Oscar Grant, who isn’t on this list, the familiar ones are mentioned above. There were many more unfamiliar than familiar ones.

As I read through the list, taking in each name in its fullness, uniqueness, I tried to keep awareness in my heart-centre. Breathing deeply into that aching space. It wasn’t comfortable, and it wasn’t easy, but I forced myself to do it. We should all do it. Over and over.

Each name a symbol. A representation of a life. Each name dreamt of, perhaps carefully considered, before the person even existed, whispered countless times, written on birth certificates, and death certificates, prayed for, called out for, loved.

I haven’t felt like writing at all this week. It feels self-indulgent and trite. What is the point of paying attention to the little details of everyday life during lockdown as my country lurches under the weight of 400 years of white supremacy?

The man who calls himself the president tear gassed and shot rubber bullets at peaceful protesters so that he could have his photo taken in front of a church. He stood there holding a Bible.

I hope to God this is the beginning of a revolution. And I wish I were there to play my part. But instead I’m here in London writing blogs and teaching meditation and feeling into my deep fear and anger and hopelessness.

And every once in a while there are moments of grace. My sister tells me people are protesting in her upper-middle class Boston suburb. She tells me her daughters totally get it. She tells me she’ll go to the next one. I ask her to send me pics.

In meditation I’m calling on spiritual ancestors to guide the way. Help me stay grounded in my convictions. That now is the time to feel into the integrity of my anger. That anger is an entirely human emotion, as real as it gets.

My anger is the barometer revealing the wrongness of things and a compass pointing me in the direction of righteousness. I know I need not fear it. I know I can harness that energy in pursuit of the good. I’ve done it before.

It’s entirely possible to feel anger without being angry. To allow clarity to emerge from that raging fire, burning bright and uninhibited.

Maybe tomorrow I’ll find it in me to write. But today is for remembering those who have been lost. I write their names here and ground my heart in the truth that their lives mattered.