A large portion of the American citizenry exhaled in relief after former Minneapolis police officer Derek Chauvin was found guilty of second-degree unintentional murder, third-degree murder and second-degree manslaughter on Tuesday afternoon in the killing of George Floyd last May.
Chauvin will be sentenced in eight weeks, and faces anywhere from five to 40 years in prison.
And yes, many of us are feeling a little better that this heinous individual, who heartlessly kneeled on the neck of a man, making sure the life was choked out of him in full view of an audience, is being held accountable for his crime.
But we can’t be satisfied with these crumbs and call it justice.
George Floyd’s graphic, publicly humiliating final moments touched off protests all over the world against police brutality. He became famous in death, a symbol of the oppressive violence perpetrated on communities of color by those who purportedly signed up to protect and serve.
As many of us took to the streets last summer — braving the other brutal pandemic, COVID-19 — to voice our frustration and anger at the public execution of Mr. Floyd, and countless other Black and brown people at the hands (and knees) of law enforcement, we hoped, prayed and vowed that this time would be different.
Unfortunately, we had no right to expect it would be — now or ever.
The grainy film of Rodney King being savagely beaten by Los Angeles police officers in 1991 is still available online. The officers’ acquittal touched off riots, or as I remember, the manifestation of voices unheard, dehumanized and dismissed.
And I could fill reams of paper with the names of Black, indigenous, and other people of color killed by police. We are constantly being gaslit, told to believe what we’re told, not what we see. Body cameras capture the misconduct, the hatefulness of those sworn to serve and protect. Cell phone videos capture children being shot — this police officer emptying round after round of bullets into 16-year-old Laquan McDonald’s prone body, that one gunning down 12-year-old Tamir Rice within two seconds of stepping out of his cruiser.
Thirteen-year-old Adam Toledo put his hands up after dropping or tossing a gun, but was still shot by a police officer seconds later.
In Columbus, Ohio, just minutes before we learned of Derek Chauvin’s fate, 16-year-old Ma’Khia Bryant reportedly called the police because she said she was being threatened by some girls. She had a knife to defend herself. The police shot her four times.
Twenty-year-old Daunte Wright was shot by a police officer yelling “Taser!” as she pumped a bullet into him, during a traffic stop for an air freshener hanging from his rearview mirror.
There are too many names, too many killings, too many videos of Black and brown bodies being sacrificed on the altar of police violence, to feel any lingering satisfaction in the accountability for the murder of Mr. Floyd.
It’s large, but it’s a crumb.
We don’t need any more comparison pictures of unarmed Black and brown people killed by police — who still find a way to peacefully apprehend heavily armed white and white-passing mass shooters. We already know how deadly traffic stops are for people of color in this country.
We shouldn’t have to have “the talk” with our teenagers about how to respond to police harassment when, not if, it happens.
We shouldn’t try to appease and assuage white people’s anger and tension when they recoil from chants of Defund the Police, and Black Lives Matter.
And the reply of Blue Lives Matter really says people who chose a job with its inherent ability to kill with impunity are more important and superior to the Black skin I’m in 24/7/365.
We don’t need any more murder porn, the snuff films of Black and brown bodies that bear witness to the sickness of systemic racism in law enforcement. We need more than outrage, tears, thoughts and prayers. We need more than embarrassed white people “checking up” on their Black acquaintances, but awkwardly avoiding the conversation about racial reckoning they can’t bear to have, because it makes them feel bad.
Breonna Taylor’s killers still haven’t faced accountability. Neither have most of the police who “fear for their lives” from unarmed citizens.
Even though George Floyd’s public execution was shockingly graphic and blatant, we still had to worry. There have been so many shockingly graphic and blatant violent encounters that never came anywhere near the light of justice. The National Guard was called out in Minneapolis in case things turned out the way they usually do.
We can’t be satisfied with this single case of accountability. We can’t decide the occasional multimillion dollar payoffs are proper compensation for the destruction of our families, our lives, and our communities. We can’t continue to endure the terrorism visited on our communities by people who can’t be trusted to not come in with guns blazing, no matter the situation.
Justice matters. Accountability matters. But until we all matter, we can’t be satisfied with this single crumb.
