I can see my personal quest for inner calm is in direct defiance of my continual reading of news regarding the lack of a grand jury indictment in Ferguson, MO.
When I first read about the verdict I literally threw up my hands in frustration. That action immediately put to mind the classic Marvin Gaye song “Inner City Blues” which I posted to my Facebook.
I wake up this morning to the snippets of the evidence presented at trial all over the news and social media. If what has thus far ben released to the public as a way to substantiate the grand jury’s correctness in their decision, it has backfired greatly my eyes.
I’ve seen some of the photo evidence of Office Wilson’s “injuries”. They range from what looks like razor burn or heat rash to a simple scratch. I’ve marred myself more popping a pimple.
MORE: Photo of Officer Darren Wilson released tonight as part of the evidence presented to the #Ferguson grand jury http://t.co/hQaql0fwKu—
CBS News (@CBSNews) November 25, 2014
And as I angrily posted this morning upon seeing the above picture:
That was his personal evidence? THAT was worth someone’s life? NO!
I know. I KNOW, I was not at the trial. I have not perused all the evidence that was presented to the grand jury – now released to the public. I have seen several snippets that have thus far been posted to news and social media. Those alone, at least to me, make it worthy of a trial.
All I can think right now is: Has the value of black lives, which were always of questionable value in this country historically once we stopped being chattel in the country anyway, lowered so far down the scale that the death of one in such fashion is not even worth a damn trial?
Last night’s outbreaks of violence in the aftermath of the verdict, reminds me very much of what happened after Rodney King. And to be honest, while I understood the anger that drove it, I did not understand the point of the LA riots in 1992 any more than I understand these outbreaks in Ferguson now. Being afraid to step foot in or out of the door of your local business because your own neighbor may have a Molotov at the ready, does nothing to help the situation. I’ve lived just long enough to see that while the details change, it still all feels a harsh ring of deja vu with history repeating itself.
Here we Americans stand some two hundred and thirty plus years of freedom from England. We blacks stand some one hundred and fifty years free from slavery, but sometimes I feel like we’re still bound. The Civil Rights Movement has done much for the outer trappings, yet we are still such a long way from the inner heart of the dream of Rev. Dr. King. And it seems every generation or so, a match gets lit to a powder keg to remind of us of just how far we have left to go before that dream comes true. In the interim, it still remains a dream deferred and Langston Hughes best explained the possible ramifications of such…
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore–
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over–
like a syrupy sweet?Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.Or does it explode?
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It’s a pretty pissed off Raivenne slicing here – come see how others are slicing it up today:
Slice of Life Weekly Writing Challenge | Two Writing Teachers
Raivenne-lations 
Thank you for sharing these thoughts. I thought of this Langston Hughes poem, too. It is a troubling dilemma. As with everything difficult I only know how to handle it with prayer and in that way find a path to hope.
I don’t feel like I know enough about the trial, or the lack thereof, to comment on that decision. And, I, too, don’t understand the rioting. As a white woman hundreds of miles away, I don’t know what to do or say. Except maybe to hold on to hope. And to teach my own children to do better and to always choose kind.
Amen. I had such a feeling of dread about this decision – from the very beginning, this was what was planned. The whole system is rigged, and still it goes on….
Yes. And yes to you, Tara. Yesterday, in response to seeing an old friend’s FB post in which she expressed her outrage at the looting in Ferguson but had nothing to say about Michael Brown, in which she described the people of Fergus as animals, I chose to engage her and talk about why I found her use of that term offensive. I was careful with my words, I was kind. And I was told that attitudes like mine were the real problem, that I was perpetuating the racial divide, that I needed to stand with white people and denounce bad behavior for what it was.
And then I wrote yesterday’s post.
I watched the press conference with the Black leadership. What they said made so much sense. They knew that the grand jury was unlikely to bring charges because of the closeness of the prosecuted to the police in Ferguson. He should have recused himself. I praying that there is a national law passed requiring all police officers to wear body cameras. I am also praying the federal justice department charges the officers with civil rights violations and that there is a federal trial.
i have not seen all the evidence…the loss of any life is a sad thing…that said, i have worked law enforcement, and without being there in the actual situation, no one knows what really happened…requiring cops to wear a body camera is an interesting idea…i wonder if it would catch the whole situation as well…i def think we still have plenty of growing to do as a people…