By Rev. Jasmine Beach-Ferrara, Executive Director, Campaign for Southern Equality
It is hard to find words as I process the fact that a grand jury did not bring charges against the officer who killed Eric Garner in Staten Island, NY.
But silence can’t be an option when so many are hurting and grieving, and when national wounds, both old and new, are so raw.
I have just returned with my family from St. Louis, which is the hometown of my wife, Meghann. The city is electric with tension right now. People are living into that tension – protesting, organizing, and praying as they seek a path forward. The NAACP is leading a march across Missouri to call for an America in which young men of color have the freedom to be who they are, the freedom to thrive, rather than being profiled and at risk when they enter public space. And today similar protests are taking place across the country, calling for justice.
For me, this is both a broad national concern and a very personal issue, as I worry about the safety of my brother, a young man of color, and about the safety of people of color whom I love.
Also in my heart are friends who work in law enforcement, who show up each day taking seriously their oath to protect and serve and who often encounter real risk in their work. This includes many who are part of the Campaign for Southern Equality family and who have been with us every step of the way, helping to ensure our safety as we take public action and handle safety threats.
These are the human and personal terms in which I am experiencing this moment.
But to understand race in America we must move beyond the personal and also look at structural and historical forces. We cannot understand what is happening in 2014 if we do not understand what was happening in 1964, or 1864. The past is with us every step of the way.
For example, I am keenly aware of a systemic tension when we look at how the justice system is engaged with LGBT rights and with racial justice issues. Right now, the judicial system is working to dismantle discriminatory laws that target LGBT people, as one federal court after another strikes down state marriage bans. Here, the judiciary is providing recourse to achieve equality where other democratic institutions have failed to. Federal and local law enforcement have also been an ally in our work, protecting us from threats and accompanying us at actions to ensure safety.
But when it comes to the fates of black men in America today, our justice system is failing. Across the country, we see patterns of systemic inequality and violence in day-to-day interactions between law enforcement and people of color. And with each such incident, we see a broken trust further eroded. When an unarmed black man is killed by police in broad daylight – as happened to Eric Garner – there must be a trial, there must be justice.
We have to be talking about these issues, and listening, and learning. The only thing that is not an option is more silence. And as we move forward in this national conversation, we cannot be afraid to disagree. Our country can handle disagreement, our relationships can handle disagreement. I know this is possible because every day I see us having a complicated conversation about LGBT life in the South – breaking a thick veil of silence that has surrounded us for our entire lives.
As an LGBT person, I count on straight allies to have my back and also know that allies play a crucial role in our efforts to achieve full equality. Similarly, white people must be vocal allies around racial justice issues. To be silent in this moment is to risk complicity.
So much is at stake in our country right now. As a person of faith, prayer is a guiding force for me, and I have been praying a lot – for all the families impacted by the violence we are witnessing, for those overcome by grief and rage, for those who are seeking a path of reconciliation. I pray that we will take care of each other in this moment, and always.
