In 2014, Kobe Bryant (along with many other NBA stars) wore a shirt that didn’t have their team logo on it during warm-ups. The shirt was simple; black, short sleeved, with white characters that spelled out 3 small words in all capital letters....” I CAN’T BREATHE.” The shirt was worn to bring attention to the senseless death of Eric Garner. Garner, a man who at most, should have walked away from that incident with a possible misdemeanor and fine, instead was killed by an officer who restrained him by putting his arm around his neck, taking away his ability to breathe. Those three words were uttered by Garner as he fought to catch his breath. He died less than two hours later.
Last week, less than six years after Garner was killed, we watched history repeat itself. Different city, different officer, same outcome. A black man, this time named George Floyd, should have walked away from an incident with a minor charge, but instead was killed by a man who thought it was acceptable to restrain him by applying pressure to his neck, taking away his ability to breathe. This time with his knee. George Floyd, just like Eric Garner uttered the words, “I can’t breathe,” but his words, just like Eric Garner’s, were ignored.
Believe it or not, Garner and Floyd represent something that is even much larger than the media coverage has shown. They, and their words, represent the feeling of being restrained. They represent the feeling that situations that normally end positively for one group, often end tragically for another. They represent me. They represent a group of people that can’t breathe. They represent Black America.
By all intents and purposes, I’m a fairly non-confrontational person. This is why I have a fairly strong memory of my first real fight that wasn’t with a family member. I was about 10 years old and we were living in Walker Village Apartments in downtown Newport News, Virginia. A kid that we were playing with who shall remain nameless, got upset and decided that it was acceptable to take his anger out on my baby brother. My brother is nearly 6 years younger than I am. The other kid was almost 2 years older than I was. In the moment I didn’t think. My brother hit the ground and I was immediately tackling the kid. A fight broke out and chaos ensued. What started as a one on one tussle, quickly became a many on many brawl. My family (brothers and cousins) were out there and we always have each other’s back. No matter the situation, I know they will never allow me to fight alone. Eventually the fight was broken up and I was pulled away still wanting to fight. I don’t remember the lumps and bruises that I had from the fight. All I remember are two things. The first is that I didn’t know what had come over me to react that way. The second was that I didn’t want to stop fighting. I was so angry. I didn’t feel like I had won, and, in my mind, the fight should have continued until it was over. I was never close with that kid again after the fight. I have no hard feelings toward him today but back then our friendship was over.
As I examine that situation, I realize that I didn’t fight because I wanted to. I fought because someone hurt my little brother, and he couldn’t defend himself. Even though I knew that I was also at a disadvantage (fighting an older kid), I also knew that I couldn’t sit there and watch him be picked on. I had to stand up for him regardless, because he needed me. I had to stand up for him because it was the right thing to do.
Today, I have those same feelings. I’m angry! I’m angry because people who can’t defend themselves properly are being picked on. I’m angry because those who have the ability to do so aren’t taking up for them. I’m angry because people are being left to fend for themselves, and then being condemned when they do what’s necessary to accomplish that. I’m angry because even though people know that it’s the right thing to do, our country as a whole, won’t do what’s right.
So, am I saying that now I’m going to go start a fist fight today? No. Unlike my first fight I will never be able to prevail in the current situation physically. Now, as an adult, that’s not how things work anymore. In fact, today I no longer represent the older brother. Today, I am just like my baby brother was 25 years ago. I need your help! The black community needs your help. Yes, you! Regardless of your skin color, we can’t fight this alone! Just like my brothers and cousins, we all need to fight together.
Back then the opposition was an older kid. Today the opposition is social injustice. Today the opposition is racism. I can’t fight this one alone. None of us can fight this alone. My ask is that you fight with me. My ask is that you fight with us. I’m not asking you to go out and physically fight someone. Maybe your fight is attacking current laws that are too weak to hold those who commit social injustices accountable. Start fighting! Maybe your fight is improving communities and providing opportunities where they previously didn’t exist. Start fighting! Or maybe, your fight is seeking to understand what it means to be black in America and ensuring that you speak up and let others know that as long as you’re around everyone will be treated fairly and you won’t rest until they are. No matter what you decide all I ask is that you start fighting!
6 years ago, Kobe Bryant wore a simple black shirt that today means so much more to me. He was on the tail end of a career that has cemented him as one of greatest basketball players ever to play the game. Today, he is no longer with us. Just 6 short years ago, and here we are again today.
Don’t waste time. Don’t let inaction lead to the loss of another innocent black man’s life. No one is promised tomorrow. Don’t allow us to be in this same situation 6 years from now. Pick a cause, pick a movement. Pick a fight. Start fighting...and don’t stop fighting until you win.