“Black Lives Matter”Yes, we do. Period. In its simplest definition, to matter means to be of importance, significance, and consequence. And for many in the African-American community, saying “Black Lives Matter” is our way of declaring that we are important, our issues are important, and neither we as individuals, nor the issues that impact us, will be discarded, overshadowed, treated as nonsense, or accused of “playing the race card” anymore. No. We matter.
Saying “Black Lives Matter” is neither separatist nor racist. It is not anti-white, and, contrary to what some in the media may say, it is definitely not anti-police. It does not denote, promote, or support hatred of or violence against any ethnic group. Let me say that again: it does not promote or support hatred or violence against any group. It is about promoting the love of self and African-American rights to equal justice and fairness.
In no way does valuing the lives of black people in America and the global diaspora mean de-valuing the lives of anyone else. That’s why many of us feel a sense of confusion, bewilderment, and, yes, anger, when people shout “All Lives Matter” as a counter to “Black Lives Matter.” After all, we as African-Americans have supported America in nearly every moment of victory and crisis this country has witnessed.
In nearly every war this country has fought, from the War of Independence to Vietnam and Iraq, African-Americans have jumped at the opportunity to serve and fight for freedom—even when they were being denied those same freedoms at home.
When terrorists attacked America on September 11, African-Americans stood in solidarity with every American on that day and every day since.
Domestically, when horrific shootings erupted in places such as at Columbine, Virginia Tech, and Sandy Hook, we cried, grieved, prayed, and supported the families of those who lost their children just like every other American did.
When gunmen opened fire in Orlando two weeks ago, we too prayed, participated in vigils, and changed our social-media avatars to L.G.B.T.-friendly rainbow flags in solidarity.
Even in this era of fierce debate around the issue of police brutality, many of us African-Americans make it a point to articulate our support for the 99 percent of police that do their honorable, thankless job right. And each time police officers have been killed or murdered in the line of duty, from Wenjian Liu and Rafael Ramos in New York in 2014 to Michael Smith, Lorne Ahrens, Michael Krol, Patrick Zamarripa, and Brent Thompson in Dallas just a week ago, we too mourned and honored those who died. To give just one example, after the events in Dallas, an African-American boy asked his mother if he could hug one of the officers. That led to a long line of people of all colors and backgrounds showing their support for the grieving men and women in blue.
It’s hardly news to African-Americans that all lives matter. Our history of enduring challenges and tragedies allows us to understand what other people and groups endure. But that same understanding compels us to say Black Lives Matter, because the empathy we have shown others has so rarely been reciprocated.
There is a well-documented tendency to view the trials and tribulations of African-Americans in a silo, as African-American issues rather than American issues. So in times of tragedy and crisis, the African-American community often feels left to its own devices for support. Nothing illustrates this cultural “empathy gap” more clearly than social media. You could see it in the immediate aftermath of the killings of Alton Sterling and Philando Castile.