When Do Black Lives Matter?

When Do Black Lives Matter?

Of course, the question itself will bring about backlash from those with 1 dimensional (1D) thinking because it is not part of their message.

Well, it should be part of the message for everyone living in a community where the murder rate is beyond understandable. And yes, I am talking about black-on-black crime. It is unnerving and painful to acknowledge that the black community seems to be more concerned about the black lives taken by police, than those in their own community. Let’s face it–more black people are killed by other black people than those killed by the police.

Don’t get it twisted! I’m not saying there should not be a movement against police brutality against black people, but when is there going to be a movement against black people killing black people? The fact that black communities have become so desensitized to black-on-black crime makes those entire communities hypocrites when they protest police brutality and march in protests with BLM banners and wearing BLM T-shirts.

Until the black community wakes up–I mean really wakes up–and deals with the issues in their own back yards, on their own streets, how on earth do they think the killing of black people is going to cease? Yeah, the black community has myriad issues to deal with–poverty, illiteracy, mental illness, and homelessness, but are any of these issues a pass to commit crime? The drug-related crimes are over the top–not just those selling illegal drugs, but those committing crimes to get a fix. And then there is the greed, not need aspect of criminality in “the hood.” Carjacking, car theft, home invasions, and robberies. Now, these crimes are committed by every ethnic group, but stay focused–this essay is about black-on-black crimes.

People in the black community complain about the lack of opportunity and diversity in various places, but no one wants to own the problem with black-on-black crime. Why is that? Is it that “black lives matter,” only when the police are involved? Why don’t black lives matter daily, in every community?

Every year, new organizations rise and say they are going to solve the problem. Some may have put a “dent” in the problem, but the problem has not been solved. So many pastors and school leaders have attempted to stem the tide of violence and yet, the violence continues. Has anyone stopped to evaluate why? Has anyone stopped to think about emphasizing the need to stop killing each other in a manner that they see themselves differently? Has anyone thought about effective appropriate parenting classes would be in communities where the kids are angry and rebellious because parents are not parenting? How about parents teaching their children their value and worth before they ever start school? How about parents demonstrating, in front of the children, what it means to be a productive member of society? How about the church leaders stop passing the collection plate long enough to be an effective servant of God in teaching their congregations how to mentor children in their neighborhoods? When we as a community stop being so self-centered that we only care about us and seldom care about others?

When we learn to “love our neighbors as ourselves” real change will occur because love makes a difference. But if people do not love themselves, they are certainly not going to love others. So, let’s start with teaching people how to love themselves–displaying integrity, honor, and compassion. Until we do, the Black Lives Matter movement will continue to be a hypocrisy when black people, keep killing other black people.

Now do not think for a moment that I am advocating dissolution of the Black Lives Matter movement; I’m simply trying to put some perspective into the situation. We need police reform and it needs to begin with how police officers are trained, and continue as review on a regular basis–especially for those veteran officers who learned things one way and are reluctant or even rebellious about learning something new. When we as a people learn to respect all lives–especially those of our sisters and brothers of like skin-tones, maybe, just maybe–we can convince everyone else around us to respect us and our lives. Unless a person is defending their lives–no one should ever be killed–black or white or brown or any other ethnic group simply because of anger and a lack of inability to think before doing. Whenever people “react” to situations without thinking, they lose the ability to control a situation. Learn to respond and respect the lives of all.

Become a 3-dimensional (3D) thinker–thinking beyond what one can see or from just one perspective. When we do, we can solve problems and save lives.

Excerpt 3 “Battlerama–Super Tweens To The Rescue”

The Wisteria left to seek others.  Their collective reasoning led them to a park in the inner city in Chicago.  Derek was playing basketball with a number of young men who were much older than he was.  They shoved him around and he could seldom get his hands on the ball, but when he did, someone always knocked it out of his hands. They laughed at his efforts, but he was determined to get the ball and make a basket.  Finally, one guy slipped on the court and Derek grabbed ball and ran to the other end and threw it.  It made it in.

“That’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout.  Yeah, how you like that?” he taunted the others.

The minute he said that, the other players boxed him in and shoved him from side to side, laughing at his inability to elude them. An older gentlemen, passing by intervened and Derek was able to escape and run home.  All the way home, he was irritated by what happened and wished he was strong enough to push back hard enough to keep people from pushing him around.

“One of these days,” he muttered. “I’ll be strong enough to take on all of them.”

As he walked into his house, the stench of garbage that he had forgotten to take out assailed him. His mother was sitting in her favorite chair in a bit of a stupor, totally unaware of Derek’s presence or how the house smelled.  Derek looked at the empty bottles on the table and knew that his mother had been at it again.  He took out the garbage, came back into the house and washed his hands before making himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  When he had finished eating, he went into his room, laid down on his bed and stared at the ceiling.  Water formed in the corner of his eyes, but he ignored it.  This was just one more time that his mother had slipped away in her drunken dreamland and he was left to fend for himself.  Silently, he started pounding the bed with his fists, thinking that if he was Superman, he would have enough strength to keep his mother from drinking because he would be able to keep her from buying the alcohol.

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