4 years later

It was four years ago this week my world was finally shaken awake in a way I have truly treasured, even in the midst of tragedy. It was the murder of Philando Castille.

My timeline on Facebook (in the memories) is filling up with what was going on 4 years ago. I remember the difficulty to express sorrow. I remember the straw man arguments.

Four years later we’ve had a series of events in a time where we’re not distracted as much because of coronavirus. We’ve had to pay attention to the murders of Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, George Floyd, and more. And for about 4 weeks, it seemed different. People were paying more attention. They were legitimately shocked.

And then our ability to be able to insulate ourselves kicked in. Now? We, as white people, are fatigued. We’re angry about other things. We’re distracted over statues and national anthems.

Again.

Four years later there seemed an opportunity… and that lasted 4 weeks?

Does it take another set of events four years from now to get our attention for 8 weeks?

As the majority culture, this is our comfort. This is our privilege. We turn away. We go back to our satisfying comfort statements…

And fall asleep?

Please… don’t fall asleep.

Folks, please… press in. For the sake of God. For the sake of your neighbor.

Please.