Imagine you’re standing on the street corner and a young man comes running up to you with blood running down his face, screaming and crying because of some trauma he just endured. Would you sit him down and school him in the proper way of asking for help or would you call 911 and start screaming a bit yourself, trying to get help for the person in need?
Schooling someone in the proper way of asking for help shows that you care more about the way things look than about the raw and very real pain of the individual in front of you.
It is time we stop telling black people the proper way to ask for help. Do you think another way of protesting would be better? Please keep that thought to yourself. It is not helpful. You may think you have good intentions but it makes you look heartless and creates a bigger divide between us as people.
Let’s not be more concerned about appearances than about the reality.
Let’s be a part of a solution, not the divide.
She lay quietly, waiting, until they found her. Like a treasure, they cared for her and she, in turn, birthed the deer, elk, and buffalo, while berries ripened on her branches and birds filled the space of her breath with song. The bushes, trees and grass burst out in all vibrant shades of green and flowers danced daily in her light. She swelled with life under their care. And they multiplied and soon chubby little feet caressed her face and she laughed at their joy.
But then, the pale ones came. Some were kind, and tired, and grateful for her. They settled in and cared for her. But many others – they tricked, and killed, spread disease and reduced the ones who treasured her from a mighty number to a frail few. They spilled blood quickly to demand more and more of her. They brought in others in chains and shackles and forced them to pull from her what little life she had left so they could feast and sit in ease. Generation after generation they grew, and consumed, and hoarded until an empire emerged.
Then they built walls around her and said, “No More!” to those standing at their doors. They took what was never theirs, hoarded it and turned their eyes away from the tired, the hungry, the ones running for their lives. They shut their eyes and put their hands over their ears and would not share her. But what they did not see was when they shut their eyes and closed their ears, they shut down her life as well. The empire they made for themselves alone, the one that could have fed all the hungry and brought healing to millions, distorted into a poison that consumed them, and they dried up with her. Too late, they realized that their self-protection had become their suicide.
But still she whispers her secret to those who can hear.
I belong to no one; I am both gift and treasure. My bounty multiplies when I am loved and shared. Share me so that I can come back to life and dance again.