WHAT IF…?

What if all lives really mattered?

I couldn’t allow the current crisis in the world to pass by without saying something, so you’ll have to forgive me going off topic – but it is necessary.

The question above was the thought going through my head at 2.30am this morning. It was enough to get me up to write down the debate I was having with myself.

The senseless killing of George Floyd has been on my mind ever since the news broke. The pain I feel that this has happened again – keeps happening – is immeasurable.

At the same time, I am buoyed by the voices speaking up – this is not just a black problem. This is a human problem because how can we as humans see another human die like that and not feel pain?

I am buoyed by the conversations that are happening – the narrative is changing.

My thirteen year old had an online lesson yesterday in which they discussed overt and covert racism. I thought back to years ago when two colleagues were discussing marriage – one was of Indian heritage and the other, white, asked if she could marry whomever she wanted. The Indian colleague replied ‘The preference is Indian from my own tribe first, then any other Indian, then white; but never a black man’. She then turned to me and said ‘no offence’ as if adding that made it any less offensive. Covert racism.

I have brothers – men that I am so proud to call family. They are caring, considerate, determined, hardworking – all the good things you would want in a partner and yet they and the rest of our race are so easily dismissed because our skin deems us ‘less-than’.

All of my brothers have been stopped by the police numerous times throughout their lives because, you know, how else could a black man afford a nice car unless he was a drug dealer (a police officer actually said that to one of my brothers)? Overt racism.

The first time the youngest of my brothers was stopped, he was around 12 years old and was on his way back from the corner shop with the milk our Mum had asked him to buy. You could see the corner shop up the road from our front door so he shouldn’t have been long. As more time passed, we started to worry – continually opening the front door and looking to see if he was headed back down the road.

Nothing.

Eventually, my Mum put her coat on and was about to go looking for him but as she opened the door, there he was. He said the police had stopped and searched him because ‘he matched the description of a burglar in the area’. The description they gave my brother when he asked was ‘black, wearing jeans and a black jacket.’ So very precise. Did the burglar steal milk too?

We were all so angry, but the overwhelming feeling was relief that he was home and he was safe.

I have been discussing racism with my girls – 13yrs and 9yrs old. I feel their righteous anger, their hurt, their confusion that this is happening. It’s not as though we haven’t had these conversations before, but this time feels different. This time they are old enough to see things for themselves – to draw their own conclusions.

Both my girls said they want to be Prime Minister one day because they want to make changes. My heart swells with pride at their eternal optimism – at their hope for a better future and that they are determined to be part of that change.

So, back to my original question: What if all lives really mattered? Can you imagine what that world would look like? What if some people – my people – in the world were not automatically at a disadvantage just because of our skin colour?

Let’s ask ourselves the hard questions. Let us all join the conversation and be part of the solution. The narrative is changing regardless – don’t miss this opportunity to be part of the necessary reformation of the world as a whole.

We all deserve to live.

We all deserve to matter.

Together, we shall overcome.

Ms Ana x