What is going on in this country is not about good cops and bad cops. It is not about looters. Or organizers on either side. It is not, at the core, about marches and riots.
It is about a man, a black man, who was murdered. And to one degree or another, we are all guilty.
This week, a bandage was ripped off a long-festering wound infecting our country. What we are seeing and hearing is a collective cry of pain. We are suffering, and yes, many suffer more than others. As a white man I cannot begin to imagine the horrors that our black brethren face on a daily basis. Sure, we – us whites – acknowledge the injustice. But often by just shaking our heads. We have no clue.
This week many of us stand, figuratively and literally, with those oppressed, demeaned, stereotyped…and murdered. But we cannot congratulate ourselves about that. We should have done better. We must now do more. (And for those who want to deny that there is a problem or prefer to ignore it or blame it on others, that is a conversation we need to have RIGHT NOW.)
The protests will end.
The wound will not heal.
But we can capture this moment. And scream. And say to ourselves that we will not let this continue. We can look deep down inside ourselves and dig out the courage, passion and dedication to save the soul of this country.
We can say we are better than this.