Dear Grandson

Dear Grandson:

You have been a part of something huge. You are only five years of age, and you likely do not get it now. You do what five year-old kids do, you read, run, pretend, build forts, play with your sisters, eat Poppie Snacks with me, sit next to your Mema and watch Paw Patrol, and make pretend things out of your food. 

So, I do not expect you to understand what a big thing you have been a part of. Some day, though, when you're older, I suspect that we'll have a conversation about you, the movement, and your place in it. I look forward to that day. Your one act of speaking up, walking in the crowd, holding up a sign, and yelling to the top of your lungs, those were huge. 

It all started back on Monday, May 25, 2020, when a police officer held down a Black man, George Floyd, by the neck with his knee on him for 9:29 until he died. A courageous young man, an MMA fighter stood there, yelled at the police, bearing witness to the brutality of it all, and a young woman stood there, seventeen years of age, and recorded it all with her phone, bearing witness to the brutality, the murder, that she was watching. Her nine year old niece stood beside her. 

Some people try to make that story complicated. Some try to make George Floyd out to be a villain. I say that's ridiculous. It all started with what ostensibly was a fake $20 bill. Perhaps it was fake, but whether it was or wasn't is beside the point. It did not merit George Floyd dying. He did not have to die.

Since that time, since the courageous young woman posted the video to her Facebook feed, the world has seen the struggle to breathe, crying out that he couldn't breathe, crying out for his mother, all multiple times, with the police officer's knee on his neck, long after there was any threat. He was handcuffed and lying on his stomach on the street. The cop had his knee on his neck for nine minutes and twenty-nine seconds. And then he died. He actually died while the knee was still on his neck. 

The world cried out. The world cried out loudly. 

Protests were held across the country in big cities and little towns. In cities where there was a large population of Black people and in parts of the country where there are no Black people. The protests were largely civil. People wore their masks, protested loudly with words and with signs. Yes, there were some ugly things that happened after dark, but I think those were opportunists, and not true marchers for justice. 

No Justice No Peace; Black Lives Matter; Am I Next; George Floyd's Life Mattered; I Can't Breathe; and all manner of other signs were seen around the country. 

One of those protests took place here in our city. Your mother, father, sisters, and you participated. You held up that "Black Lives Matter" sign and from the look on your face in a photo that I do not have permission to post, you were obviously yelling something. I suspect it was "Black Lives Matter!" I saw that picture of you in the newspaper and I wept. 

Since George Floyd's death there have been multiple protests; a sort of reckoning is going on in America. People are beginning to realize that Black Lives Do Matter because they have never mattered from enslavement, Middle Passage, the plantation days, freedom, Jim Crow, and all the way up to now, Black lives have only mattered when their bodies mattered to us economically. 

One of the people that we have worked closely with is a staffer in Senator Booker's office. He said a while back that there has been nothing like this in the history of the US, that there is a racial reckoning happening. As a result of that reckoning, people that I care about deeply, Black Farmers, have a potential new lease on life with debt relief that is now signed into law and with the hope that The Justice For Black Farmers Act of 2021 brings if and when it is passed. 

On Tuesday of this week we listened with much anxiety to the judge's words. Actually, we had watched much of the trial of the murderer of George Floyd. We were hoping for a conviction, but we have seen many times before when a person guilty of  murdering someone walked free. Your Mema and I were afraid to hope. But then we heard the judge's words, GUILTY, GUILTY, GUILTY, and we were excited. We pumped the air, your Mema honked her horn as we drove down the highway. We were ecstatic. When we got home, we watched again as the cop who had kept his knee on George Floyd's neck for 9:29 was handcuffed and carried away to prison. We watched as the family and lawyers joyfully spoke. We watched as the protest there in Minneapolis was held peacefully. 

From Mr. Floyd's murder to the guilty verdict of Mr. Floyd's killer, people have lived in anguish. We have protested, written letters, marched, wrote blogs, spoke openly about police brutality, and pointed out the lack of value placed on Black bodies in America. We have lived hopefully for the passage of bills for Black farmers. 

You, my young grandson, were a part of something huge. You walked. You protested. You carried a "Black Lives Matter" sign. You yelled at the top of your lungs.  Yes, you were a part of something huge. 

Someday we will talk. We will make sense of it all. 

Until then, I'll just be your Poppie who loves you. We will build forts, watch Breath of the Wild or Mario videos, eat Poppie snacks, dig in the dirt and build imaginary things, and all manner of other things. 

Someday we will talk. 

Yes, someday we we will talk. You'll know that you were a part of something huge. 

And you can continue to be a part of something huge. 

Yes, we will talk.