The Police Report to Me, but I Knew I Couldn't Protect My Son.
Even as mayor, I know what every other parent to a black boy in America knows: My son is simply who he is, a young black man.
By Keisha Lance Bottoms
Ms. Bottoms is the mayor of Atlanta.
ATLANTA — I frantically screamed into the phone to my teenage son: "Lance, WHERE ARE YOU?!"
Social media posts were swirling that protests were being planned in Atlanta in response to the death of George Floyd, a black Minnesotan, while a police officer knelt on his neck.
Although as mayor, the chief of police reports to me, in that moment, I knew what every other parent to a black child in America knows: I could not protect my son. To anyone who saw him, he was simply who he is, a black man-child in the promised land that we all know as America.
I know that as a mayor of one of the largest cities in our country, I should now be offering solutions. But the only comforting words I have to offer so far are those that I know to be most true: that we are better than this; that we as a country are better than the barbaric actions that we are forced to keep watching play out on our screens like a grotesque horror movie stuck on repeat. We are better than the hatred and anger that consumes so many of us. We are better than this deplorable disease called racism that remains so rampant.
With each passing second separating me from the peace of mind a mother feels having secured the safety of her children, I could not waste minutes articulating all of those things to my son. All I could say was, "Baby, please come home — now! It's not safe for black boys to be out today."
I thought of his adoption process, when my husband and I were told there was no wait for black boys.
I wondered then if this country's fear — and too frequent hatred — of black men began, even subconsciously, at their birth. The harsh reality is that if we examine the historical conditions of living while black in America, then we'll realize that there has never been a day when it was truly safe for black boys to be out, to be free, to just be.
America has a long and unreconciled history of tearing black boys and men from their homes, their families and their communities — and of throwing them into the unrelenting grip of death, more often than many Americans may like to admit. From being captured and assailed on African shores, subjected to mass incarceration and being cuffed and asphyxiated in American streets, black men have always had an inverse relationship with life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
Reflecting on the current state of affairs, my mother said to me, "This doesn't feel like we've gone back to 1965; this feels like before 1965 in America."
To hear her say that was heartbreaking. To think that her generation made so many sacrifices and that despite it all today's climate hearkens back to feelings that predate the reforms they fought so hard for is scary and sobering. But recognizing the truth within it is also necessary.
During the Civil Rights Movement we saw people of all races and all walks of life coming together to say: This is not right and we are going to stand up for the goodness of America. That same spirit must rise and prevail today. Such a pursuit is not partisan. It's American. I cannot guarantee that I will pass freedom down to my children, but I can and will continue to fight for it and teach them how to fight for it every single day. One of the best ways that we can fight for it is by fighting to ensure that our governing bodies are led by people who value the freedom, equality and humanity of all of mankind. Now, more than ever, elections matter; leadership matters. That's why November 2020 matters.
So as Atlanta's mayor, I would like to offer one salient solution to the atrocities we are faced with today. Let us each commit to exercise our right to vote this November. Let us vote against state-sanctioned violence, vitriolic discourse and the violation of human rights. In memory of George Floyd and all the other innocent black lives that have been taken in the recent and distant past, let us commit to registering black people, especially black men, to vote.
Think of what could be possible if each of us allied in favor of justice spent more than nine minutes getting people registered in preparation to make change at the federal, state and local levels this fall. That would be the most effective response, the deepest payback, for each minute that passed when that Minneapolis policeman pressed into Mr. Floyd's innocent body.
Join me in getting ready for the polls. Together our generation of Americans can declare — without equivocation — that freedom will not face extinction and that progress will not be paralyzed.
New York Times, June 3, 2020
Keisha Lance Bottoms is the mayor of Atlanta.
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June 5, 2020
Voices4America Post Script. @KeishaBottoms is the mayor of Atlanta. She is also on Joe Biden's short list for VP. She is the mother of a black son. This is what she has to say. #EndRacismNow #Justice4GeorgeFloyd #EndTrumpsReignOfTerror #Vote #Blue2020
