History and hurt and headlines.. and one white girl's perspective on the phrase: Black Lives Matter

Six months ago today, my husband pointed out to me the headline on the front page of our local paper that reported a tragic incident:  A 17 year old boy had been shot in a drive-by shooting and was in critical condition.  Another family member, his cousin (that was more like a sister, as they'd grown up together) had also been shot; she was only 13 (she was released from a different hospital within a day).  But the tragedy became all the more devastating to me personally when I saw the picture and read the article in full.  I was pretty sure I knew him.  I was a little thrown off because the address was wrong in the paper.  So, I made a phone call to check... it was him.

Zaki.  I had met him for the first time when he was 9- that would have been 8 years ago.    There was a couple that attended our church that would often bring some boys from their neighborhood to our church for Sunday service.  They knew a lot of children in their neighborhood and would have brought more children to church, I imagine, if their car had allowed.   Our church was pretty young at the time- about 3 years old.  When considering having our first Vacation Bible School, since this couple knew so many kids in their neighborhood, it made sense just to have the Bible school  in their neighborhood rather than at our church building.  So that's what we did - a neighborhood Vacation Bible School at this couple's home.

Zaki came to that vacation Bible school (which was about 20 plus kids) and he also came to a follow-up Bible study that we did in the neighborhood afterwards (that I helped with- toddler and baby in tow)- which was a smaller group of usually about 5 kids.   Zaki was a pretty consistent member of the 5.  We met once a week, if I remember correctly.  My daughters were about 3 and 1 at the time- so if you have kids, it may not surprise you that my memory of that time was a little fuzzy- but I definitely remembered Zaki.  What I can remember most about him was that he was just a silly kid.  Just liked to be silly.  And he liked dogs.  I thought I'd see if I could retrieve more of my memories of Zaki by looking through old journals and calendars (there are advantages to holding onto papers!).   I didn't journal as much then (remember the 3 and the 1 year old) but I often would write a short note or two in my planner/calendar recording what happened each day.  I found Zaki's name written a number of times.   I'm so glad I saved those pages.  Later I would share some of what I had written with his family.

As years passed, the couple eventually no longer attended our church- and then I (and the church) were not in contact with Zaki and the other kids.  But, as time came for my girls to start school, I found myself right back in that neighborhood.  In carline I would pass the house where we had the vacation Bible school as well as the house where Zaki lived- Dianne's house.  Dianne is Zaki's Aunt- but she had raised him ever since he was 6 years old.  Dianne's house is directly in the path of carline and so depending on my timing, there could be days when my car is literally parked on the corner of her lot.  She was (is), I believe, one of the matriarchs of the community.  When we were organizing the Bible school, we knew she would be a key piece to it.  The community trusted Dianne. So, if Dianne was for us having the Bible school, the families in the community would also probably be okay with it. 

Anyways- since that vacation Bible school, that neighborhood has never completely left my heart.  And sometimes in driving to or from school, I would later run into Zaki as he was also on his way to or from school.  I'd say hello, ask how he was doing.  Once he was in high school, I didn't see him at all.  

Until that day when I saw his picture- on the front page- victim of a drive-by shooting... now in critical condition.  

I cried and shook my head... and I knew i wanted to be there.  At the hospital.  To pray.  So I went.  And it may seem a bit strange that I would want to be there... since it had been so long since I had seen him.  But in my gut- in my heart- i felt like that is what i had to do.  

When I arrived in ICU, i checked in at the desk to see if any family was there.  At first, there wasn't.  The gentleman at the desk said that if I wanted to see Zaki, I would need his mom's permission (I had never met his mom before, only Dianne and relatives on Dianne's side of the family.  Dianne is Zaki's paternal Aunt.).  So, I didn't expect that I would be going into his room.  I just wanted to be there- at the hospital- in the waiting area- to pray.  So that is what I did.  Eventually, I left the waiting room of the ICU with the plan of leaving the hospital.

In the hallway outside of ICU, I saw two women heading towards ICU - and took a chance in asking them if they happened to be there for Zaki.  I didn't recognize them or anything- but--- I just asked.  (Go ahead and laugh at me- I'm white- I see two black ladies going by and desperately ask if they are there for Zaki [who is also black].  In my estimation, it was worth the risk of being thought a fool... or something else). 

Well, thankfully (for my ego at least), they were there to see Zaki.  It was his maternal Grandmother and Aunt.  I explained who I was (ultimately a lady they didn't know who knew Zaki from a long time ago- that wanted to be there to pray- and then I also mentioned that my husband was a Pastor- which sometimes that is a good thing to people/ sometimes not- in this case it was a good thing).  They were ever so gracious towards me and sat with me in the ICU as they waited for his mom to arrive.  

When his mom arrived, they introduced me- and then invited me to go into his room to pray with them.  I told them that I hadn't expected to go into his room- that I had only wanted to be at the hospital to pray.  But they still invited - and so i went.  And we prayed.  With his Mom, his Grandmother and his Aunt.  Part of me felt like i didn't belong there- because I am not family- but i also counted it an honor that they would let me in.  They didn't even know me.  But perhaps after that prayer together- in that room- for at least that moment, we were one- and never again strangers.  Tragedy can do that I think- tragedy and love and prayer and pain.

Sometime after that in the days ahead, I reconnected with Dianne and her side of the family.  Dianne and I became fast friends in this - and ... family.  Truly family.  And now (today and ever since I found out of the possibility of moving) as I mulled over the reality that our family will be moving out of Ocala to North Carolina in about 2 months, it is my relationship to Dianne and her family that I am perhaps most perplexed about- as to why God would have us become so close so quickly - and then take me and my family to another place so soon after it all.  It is so strange to me that this all happened (the tragedy and the new family and friends made in its aftermath over these 6 months) - and then soon I will be leaving.... Strange... sad... puzzling... I don't know.

---

So, back to facts.  Zaki had been shot on September 28, 2016.  I went to the hospital on the 29th.  The prognosis was not good.  He was on life support.  In ICU.  He was taken off of life support on October 5th.  He died at the age of 17- about a month short of his 18th birthday.  They have yet to arrest anyone (at least not to public knowledge) for the shooting.  And I drive by his house 5 days a week for carline.  

More thoughts... for the year or year and a half up until the time Zaki was shot, our country has seen what seems like a resurgence in racism.  Heated words and hasty acts of violence.  Some violence done at times under the umbrella of racism which sometimes falls under an umbrella of hate which sometimes falls under fear and misunderstanding.  Whatever you call it, people - PEOPLE,  died that shouldn't have died.  And whether or not you think racism is a problem in our country, I think you'd agree that innocent people dying by a bullet is wrong.  No matter their color.

Which brings up... for me at least... these words... about color.... "Black lives matter"

I am going to ask you to try not to (try really hard, please) think of these words in the context of what you have seen on TV or read in the news.  But just think of the words- with no attachment to a group or movement or.... just think about the words: "Black lives matter".  

The argument here for some is: Well of course Black lives matter - but so do blue lives and white lives and....  If you go immediately to Blue and White- you've missed the point.  The statement that "black lives matter" is not to devalue white lives or blue lives or any other life....... as some may believe.  It is not an arrogant statement that black lives are more important than other lives.  It is a statement, from my best estimation (from my perspective- I cannot speak for others), that comes from a place of feeling less... where some black people [and some white people such as myself believe this too] have felt that their lives have been given a lesser value than the lives of others- and so it is just saying - please treat black lives just as valuable as every other life- because we aren't feeling that- we aren't feeling equally valuable...). Historically in our country, people of color("black") have felt their lives have been given a lesser value than that of other lives (particularly than that of white lives).   And historically, blacks have had less rights, less pay... 

And here you may say:  Hey!  Get over it!  Stop playing the victim.  Slavery has been over for years.  Stop complaining.  

And my response to that is:  Maybe slavery is over - but there are things (negative things) that people of color may experience that I will not experience- because of color.  There are things (negative things) that children of color experience or will possibly experience that will not be a shared experience with my white children.   Some of those differences in experiences DO have to do with color (some differences will also have to do with both socioeconomic status and color- not just color alone).  Sometimes, even today, color matters.  For example...

Worrying about your son being pulled over and getting killed for no reason by a police officer - just because he "looks" like he might do something wrong is not my reality - but is a reality for some of my friends- and it breaks my heart.  I hate that in this world, in this country, at this time - different family friends whose children have darker skin than my children have to have conversations with their children that I will probably never have with mine (what to do if you get pulled over, how to be extra careful, what to do if people look at you differently or say mean things because of your skin- yes this still happens in 2017)....

I hate that the experiences of childhood for children in my neighborhood in some respects is a world different than that of the neighborhood i drive through in carline to pick our younger daughter up from school.  I hate that there was a drive-by shooting in "that" neighborhood and that as awful as it was for all there - and yes, shocking--- in some ways, it was not so shocking.  That it is much more "expected' that a drive-by shooting happen in one place like "that" neighborhood than in my neighborhood- I hate it.  Because no place should have drive-by shootings.  That should not be more expected anywhere.  I hate that the victim was 17.  No child should die like that - anywhere -ever.  No community deserves that.  No child deserves that.  No mother or mother-figure should have to bury her own child.  But it happens - and it happens more in communities like "that" than in my neighborhood- 

.... And I hate... i hate that there were other victims that were there to see or hear it all unfold - gunshots.  One of the other victims was also shot - but survived.  She is in the beginning of her teen years and when she was 5 my husband, daughters and I went to her birthday party- and now this - a drive-by shooting where one of the most precious people in her life was killed and she was shot- is part of her life story- at 13.  She's okay now, physically.  Please pray for her, though- and for all of her family.  

Her life matters- and Zaki's life matters.  They are 2 black lives that i know.  And they matter.  They are Black lives that matter - because they are lives.  And their Black lives- one that has left this earth after 17 years and one still here- have honestly had some very different experiences (some of which were negative) than the white lives of my children because of where they live and to some degree the color of their skin.  

That lives are really different sometimes for people due to the color of their skin (or the neighborhood they live in) is not some kind of dreamed up black fiction or the narrow view of a stubborn person or people holding onto the past.  It is a reality for many.  I have seen it with my own white eyes (which have no better or insightful view than someone's black eyes- but the way things are for some- some people are more likely to believe my white account than a friend's black account) - this is not a perspective that only black people have.  

All things are not equal here in the United States.  Can we fix it overnight? No.  If you are white does that make you racist? No.  But as we look to better days of more equality, we in the meantime can also listen better - and not take statements like "Black Lives Matter" as an attack on all other lives (Blue/White/...- and not that these terms are mutually exclusive) but rather we can take them as a cry out saying something like (again this is my perspective)- "Hey, please treat me [or my friends] like you think my life is just as important as yours.  Please don't look at me like you're afraid of me.  Please know that somewhere in my life, I have FELT like someone has looked down on me because of my color.  And maybe someone has said something or done something.  And it might not have been you- but it was someone.  And I don't blame you- But please don't tell me its all in my head and to get over it.  Because you haven't lived my life.  And yes- there may be  negative things that I experience as a Black person that you don't as a white person.  And again, I don't blame you.  I just want you to acknowledge that I've been hurt- just acknowledge that I'm not making this up.  Just care about my feelings".

Does that make sense?

Black lives matter.  I lost a friend.  A black friend.  And I hate that it was more likely to happen in his neighborhood than in mine.   Because he lived in poor, black neighborhood in America (side note:  the fact that a neighborhood has more black people or more people with a lower income is not what makes it more dangerous - color and income in and of themselves don't determine a neighborhood's safety.  There are many communities in our world which have more much more poverty and higher percentages of people that are black - that also have much less violence and overall crime-- think of places like Haiti... So color and income are NOT the problem- something more complex is at work in America that is connected to the violence... but I can't go there right now).   Is it the fault of white people that this happened?  No.  But if white people refuse to hear a cry for "Black lives matter" with compassion, than that is a problem...  If people are hurting, we should listen.

People all over our world are hurting.  Many hurt because they wonder if their life even matters - or at least if it matters as much as another's.  Wondering if their life matters to themselves.  To others.  So if someone says " x" lives matter".  Please don't get angry.  Maybe you could ask them more about that... ask them if they think their life doesn't matter (whether from their perspective or another's).  And if they do think that, then you could ask why- and listen to their story.

Stories.

I met him for the first time when he was 9.   A boy.  A fun, silly, dog-loving boy.   And on a day in late September of 2016, eight years after the first time i had met him, his life and my life were forever changed.  Days later, his life this side of heaven ended- but certainly not his legacy.   And that's another story for another day.  

This is written with love to Dianne, Teidra, Alany and all of Zaki's family and friends (and to anyone else who has ever known brokenness).  And it is also written in loving memory of Zaki- a boy who's life mattered.