Black and Blue

Friends.

I…

I…

I just don’t know what to say.

My heart is broken.  It’s bruised.  It’s black and blue.

I haven’t said anything about police brutality because there are always a lot of factors involved. And until we know all of the facts about each case it’s hard to make any objective judgment.

I have been treated poorly by policemen multiple times myself. My first time being pulled over was because I was in a park after hours.  It was dark and I was asked to exit my vehicle while it and I was searched.  The cop called for backup and when nothing was found I was told I was “boring” and sent on my way with a fat ticket.  I’ve had a cop lie to my face.  I’ve had a cop leave me crying on the side of a sketchy road in the middle of the night, as my car wouldn’t start, after giving me three tickets for two violations.  I’ve had a cop advise me not to make an official statement because it would make the property value of the city go down.  But in each time I’ve come across a rude or tyrannical police officer, I never once feared for my life. In fact, when I see the police cars patrol my neighborhood, I feel safer.  I can’t judge every police officer by the few bad ones I’ve encountered.  For the most part, they have trained and sacrificed to protect my family and me. And I am truly thankful.

But after the recent events, my heart breaks for the black community… again.  I have been able to discount statistics due to so many surrounding factors.  I have excused past police shootings because people, even without weapons, can still be a fatal threat to others.  But this week, it has become very clear that policy needs to change.  If the law finds that shooting a man with his hands up because you are afraid he may have a gun nearby is sound and just, it’s time for a policy change.

Zianna is right.  Black people shouldn’t have to feel this way.  An entire people group should not be afraid of the people who have vowed to protect them.  It’s a problem.  It’s a problem that causes more than “unrest.”

Watch this. The whole things is good but if you’re pressed for time watch from 3:45-12:43.

One thing may lead to another to cause statistics that seem unfair.  It’s time to find the root of these statistics. It’s a vicious cycle that police fear black males because black males are statistically committing violent crimes at a higher rate than any other race proportional to their population.  Is it possible that black males feel the whole system disrespects them, is unfair, and untrustworthy?  Would changing the rules of engagement to include “tase first” help?  I’m not the expert here but I can question the experts and call for conversations to begin.

Because I’ll say it again: that’s what will help.  Conversations.  Face to face.

When I saw him from afar, I thought he was a bad dude.

When he got closer, I thought he was just an animal.

When he got closer, I recognized that he was a human.

When we were face to face, I realized that he was my brother.

-American Proverb

 

10,000 Hours

Malcolm Gladwell says that it takes 10,000 hours of deliberate practice to achieve mastery in a field.

I have been a parent for almost 100,000 hours.  About 98,526 hours as of this moment.  Subtract an average of 8 hours a day for sleep (though new parents know you don’t ever get that much sleep!) and the time that I’ve had both kids in school and that’s still 51,062 hours I have been consciously and physically parenting. So, I guess I’m gonna call that mastered.  Bam. That’s Gold Medal level parenting right there.

 

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Just don’t google the “10,000 hour rule” and read the titles to all of the articles there discounting that it’s even a thing.  And don’t pay any attention to the fact that as your kid changes you have to change your parenting.  Or that the parenting that works for one kid doesn’t for the other.  Or that what used to be a good parenting practice, is now considered inappropriate according to the American Academy of Pediatrics. And don’t even think about how I’ve had an amazing partner doing a good portion of the work, or that I’m not even very good at math, so I may be completely wrong about how long I’ve been parenting… You know what, never mind.