I remember his screams like it happened yesterday.
They echoed through the middle school quad and courtyard area and I could hear him crying. They weren’t tears running down his cheek, sad kind of tears. They were loud tears… they were angry tears… they were unheard tears and unknowing tears. And those tears came out in the sounds of the words, “No one ever listens to me.” And he meant no one. No soul on the planet. No family member, friend, teacher, classmate, person in the streets. No one.
They were the words of a young black man in my 8th grade class around the age of 15 a few years back. His eyes were heavy. He was tired. And sometimes, he made me tired. But now my eyes are heavy because the realization hits me he was in a broken system. He is in a broken system. He was lying facedown in the middle of the courtyard with handcuffs on his wrists behind his back.
And I find now that after teaching for 13 years, this is where many of my students have found themselves. These students have varied in culture and background and physical color. Their words are not screams in an open space. The only place they believe they are listened to now is on social media. Facebook posts, tweets, Snapchat stories, and Instagram bios and pictures. Nothing sacred or intimate. All out for the world. All waiting and wanting to be heard. To be known. And to be loved in the listening. In the being of themselves. And of their families. And their culture. And their music. And their livelihood.
And they are part of a broken system. The system is not just an educational system or a governmental system. It is systemic. It is institutionalized. It is a system combining policy and attitudes and history and colonialism and religion and it is a mess. It will not be solved overnight. It is a family system and a poverty system and a system of the schemes of the Enemy.
Hey C- I hear you now. I’m sorry it took so long. But I hear you.
I’m told I’m a good listener but I realize I’m not always that way. I miss the mark multiple times. The major problem with good listeners is they’re not always great communicators. We stay silent often for fear of hurting feelings or telling the Truth.
I realize the Truth is both a blessing and a curse. And on some days, it is my gift and on other days, it is my pit. The Truth eats at me. I am a Truth Teller and honestly, no one wants to be that person.
“No one ever listens to me.” It EATS at me. Those words haunt me as I fly silently on a plane and sit quietly in a car and wait patiently in an airport. They become tears on the edge of my eyes.
They become tears in my mouth. Words that must be spoken.
Words that become names and stories like the young man I’m telling the story of here.
You can spout off statistics about cops and the incarceration rates of white men and even white supremacists. I tell you… the percentages of young black (and Latino) men have higher incarceration rates. Whether by pure malice or poor intentions or a faulty system. Regarless, the statistics are there and they cannot be ignored and it is wrong.
I don’t remember what exactly happened to C, the young man in my story at the end. But I know you can’t replace in my mind the repetition of his screams through an empty middle school quad while they were waiting for someone to come and get him. I remember many teachers were relieved. He had come in during the middle of the year and had a script of juvenile detention, suspensions, and "trouble" to begin with. Sought attention. A lot of it. By that point in my career, that was frustrating but pretty normal at the school I was in. This young man was not alone. He was just screaming the echoes of what he knew to be true for friends and family, for his father. For himself. He wanted to be heard, just like many young black male students who have been in my classroom.
And now I see the faces of young men just like him. Young men like Ahmaud. Jogging in the street. Dead over two months ago and just now being heard of. The scariest possibility is I could see a picture of C. It could be his face with his echo that becomes news worthy. It could be him driving a car or running on the sidewalk of his neighborhood-- he would be a little younger than Ahmaud, but in his 20's.
In line at the airport a while back, I was chatting with a young black mother who expressed quickly a fear of her eldest son driving alone. I’m sure her fear was for multiple reasons that I cannot imagine. I do not know all of the fears she must encompass. And I cannot ever replicate it or completely understand it. I cannot claim to understand any of her experiences or fears but I can begin to listen. And I can speak up on behalf of the statistics I know and the students I love and the stereotypes I wish my children to one day avoid. And the attitudes I wish my children to one day NOT have that I had to fight against and figure out.
“See the enemy is puffed up; his desires are not uprights—but the righteous person will live his faithfulness.” Habakkuk 2:4
May we listen harder and more than ever before. The next generation is screaming because they feel they have not been heard. Whether or not that is true is completely irrelevant. Whether we listen or not is completely relevant.
Ahmaud's story deserves to be told. So does C. And if I'm a voice to do it, then I am.
-Melissa
P.S. There are so many ways I have learned more about this. From friends who have been willing to have conversations to books and narratives I've read to just being introspective and reflective. I've had to examine my own beliefs and my own narrative to see where I fall short and support this systemic bias. I am not perfect by any means-- I have not arrived-- I do not have answers but I can learn and be sensitive. I can be aware and raise awareness. I can be a voice for those who feel they have no voice or those who are tired or angry. We need to talk to our kids about this-- we need to be better. I have to make this recommendation of a children's book- it can help guide the conversations you have with your children about how God had a great idea of creating us to all be different, it was recommended by Jackie Hill Perry (who holds a lot more credibility than I do) but I can 100% agree with her on this recommendation- order it! God's Very Good Idea by Trillia Newbell
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