On Charleston

I’d like to say nothing. I’d like to turn off the news, close my computer, and enjoy my coffee in this Texas sun that I’ve missed so much. I’d like to join the people in this café in their idle conversations, so that I can ignore the pain that’s etched into our nation. But I can’t.

Nine people died in South Carolina last night. And because they can’t talk, we must. These are their stories. 

Those who know me well know that shootings are a subject all too close to home. And, for far too many people in this country, massacre is something we’re much too familiar with. Terrorism is in our backyard. We read about these shootings in movie theaters, in colleges, in elementary schools, in churches. We read about them so much that we see another story in the news, and we say it’s just another story in the news. It’s tragic how meaningless the word tragic is these days.

Just because it’s happened before – too many times – doesn’t mean we have license to close our emotional floodgates this time. We don’t get to change the station and salve our consciences through distraction.

Because it’s not simple. It’s an ugly manifestation of the unchecked casual racism that runs rampant in this country. It’s a natural product of America’s entrenched systemic white supremacy, white privilege, whatever you want to call the fact that there is not equality in this land of the free for some. This attack is a result of gun lobbies having the same power over congress that guns have over hostages. Countless social, cultural, and political problems contributed to this violence and to the shamefully high number of incidents like this. The complexity of the problems doesn’t give us a free pass.

You don’t get to ignore this story if you don’t live in Charleston. You don’t get to ignore this story if you aren’t religious. You don’t get to ignore this story if you aren’t black. You don’t get to ignore this story.

We’re not going to make progress by wishing things like this wouldn’t happen. Or by wishing our friends would stop posting about them on Facebook. We have to talk about it. We have to have tough conversations and take any steps we can to end the hate that has consumed us. I don’t have any solutions. But I have eyes to see this tragedy. I have ears to hear your pain and your ideas. And I have a mouth to speak up.

Do not be silent.