Black Lives Matter

I left town in the midst of a global pandemic. I returned to a revolution. Shelter In Place had been instituted for almost six weeks when we packed the cars and headed to Lake Tahoe on April 21, 2020. My best friend of forty-one years, Sally, had died of cancer the day before. I organized what I thought we would need for at least a month, while a shroud of shock and grief hovered all around me. As I packed a bin of food, I had the strongest feeling that although this was the first time, I would pack to live in Tahoe for the summer every year for the rest of my life.

When we returned to Mill Valley in early June to sell the car and prepare our house to rent, I returned to a different town. The Pandemic was still there, and most everyone went about their daily business wearing masks, but there was something else. It was so strong and powerful. There were signs all over town saying, “Black Lives Matter” and “Silence is Violence” and “No Justice No Peace” and “I Can’t Breathe”. Within twelve hours of arriving I joined a protest in Mill Valley. As I entered the downtown where I have lived for over forty years, much seemed the same. The Redwood trees were as regal as ever. Mt Tamalpais loomed in all her glory, but there was an energy I didn’t expect. There were so many people streaming in from every direction. Families with dogs and children holding signs: SAY HIS NAME. GEORGE FLOYD.

A cold-blooded, broad daylight, killing by cop of yet another unarmed black man, so egregious that it literally shocked the world out of complicity or compliance or complacency. Choose the word that fits you. None of us can escape this. We are all on the continuum somewhere between the victim and the brilliant white people who thought it was right and just to throw off the shackles of King George and build a new land using slaves. This new land is four hundred years old now and it is exploding with grief and fear and rage. No justice, no peace. No justice, no peace. No justice, no peace.

A killing by cop that was so blatant, so inhumane and so filmed. Racism isn’t worse now; it’s being documented. Since George Floyd’s death the world has changed. It’s about time. I have done many protest marches in my life. I started demonstrating as a child with my parents in the 60’s. We marched for Civil Rights. We protested against the Viet Nam War. We walked in our county. We marched in Washington DC. In recent years I have walked across the Golden Gate Bridge with Moms Demand Action.

It’s hard for me to chant phrases like: No More Silence, End Gun Violence. It always makes me emotional and I start to cry a bit when I’m saying the words. The Mill Valley protest was no different. We walked down Miller Avenue. My daughter, Allie, and her partner Denzel live on Miller. Denzel is one of the few black men who live in very white Mill Valley. As we walked past their apartment we chanted: BLACK LIVES MATTER. I cried even more than usual. It seemed so obvious. I wonder why we even have to say these words?

We have to say them because we all fall somewhere on the continuum. We all have bias even if we’re not overtly racist. We all have work to do. We need to face the uncomfortable truths about white privilege and what it means to be a black or brown person in our community. We need to do better. We can do better. We must do better.

When Allie and Denzel got together eight years ago I was happy for them because they were in love and they are a well-suited, compatible, dynamic couple. They’re both no drama, happy people. They have lots of friends. Their natural tendencies are to avoid confrontation, but there is no avoiding this moment. In our family we all want them to get married and have children when they’re ready, but I have had worries about their future because they’re a bi-racial couple. Not because of them, but because of the world. I thought about it in the same way I would if one of my children were homosexual. I love you. I support you. You love who you love, but I’m afraid your life is going to be harder in ways.

I worry about Denzel. I know his Mom worries about him even more. One night, years ago, we were all walking around New York City after a late dinner. It was chilly and Denzel put the hood up on his sweatshirt. Inside I was saying, no, don’t do it! But then I thought, oh how ridiculous. But it’s not ridiculous. He is always in potential danger because of the color of his skin. How disturbing is that? When they have children Allie will most likely be the safest person in their family because she’s white. How wrong is that? There are places they can’t safely go because monstrous Americans with their guns take the “law” into their own hands. How frightening is that? I worry that the town where Allie was raised, and where she and Denzel have chosen to settle and start a business, won’t be welcoming. How unsettling is that?  It’s all of the above - disturbing, wrong, frightening and unsettling.

When Allie and Denzel were still living in New York they took a weekend getaway to New Hampshire. I was petrified to think of them in pick-up driving, gun-toting, white New England. Apparently, the hotel they chose was not some backwoods, scary place. Allie texted that Cynthia Nixon and her wife and children were in the hot tub with them. Exhale. If lesbians were ok there, Denzel and Allie were probably fine. But seriously, what a way to have to think and what a way for too many Americans to live.