The Part You Don’t See
Tuesday night I took part in a protest in my neighborhoods led by clergy and community leaders. It was a beautiful evening on a warm Chicago night just days after looting and riots spread across a large part of the city. Eerily the night was so beautiful that you could hardly tell that there was so much unrest in the world. I was so encouraged to see how many people came out and how many different races, religions and ethnicities took part in the march. At one point, we stopped just past 39th street and had a prayer. At the end of the prayer, a chant started with the words, “Get off our backs, get off our necks, No justice, No Peace.” Before I knew it I found myself moved to tears. You see, that chant has personal significance to me. It was only 5 years ago that I found myself with 4 security guards with knees to my back, shoulder, and legs. I couldn’t do anything else at the moment other than hold my head down and cry thinking that I was fortunate to be alive. I felt grateful that my life was spared and at the same time an overwhelming sense of grief for George Floyd, a man I never met.
As I looked up, I looked to my left across the wave of people and I saw a wave and a smile. Out of the thousands of people protesting the person, I looked across the aisle and saw was Nenye Uche. Nenye was my defense attorney who along with my family and friends stood by me and for me as I fought for my freedom and vindication. My parents called me every day, to check on me, to encourage me, to help me work through my anger and fear. They prayed for me when I couldn’t pray for myself and when they only words I could ask God at the time were, “why did this happen?” My sister and best friends came to court with me. My nephew hugged me and told me he loved me. My pastors motivated me to use this in alignment with the work God has purposed me to accomplish.
I began to think of the countless families in our country that have had to deal with the trauma and post-traumatic stress that situations like this cause. Personally, my parents still are concerned for me daily and they still show immediate concern anytime a black man is killed by authorities and we are provided visual evidence of the offense. I thought about all the people of color who have had to hold the weight of situations like this and still operate like nothing is wrong. Do you understand how heavy that is? We see the victims but we don’t often discuss the collateral damage that this has on the families.
George Floyd wasn’t just one life taken senselessly. He was part of a community and he touched the hearts of so many people we will never know the names of. What happened to George Floyd happens daily in this country. Some of us are blessed to survive and with the grace of having my life spared, I’ll fight for you George.
