Bullet with Butterfly Wings

It's really hard to know how to respond to what is going on in our world right now. In the past, when black men have been shot and killed by police officers, some right here in Madison, some further away, I have felt outrage. I have felt helpless. I have felt the weight of the injustice that in our courts of law and in our police departments, this behavior is treated as justifiable.

It is not, in my opinion, justifiable.

And it keeps getting worse. More blatant. More gratuitous. More, if it's possible, racist.

I know myself well enough not to watch the videos that documented the loss of Alton Sterling and Philando Castile's lives. I knew I would be triggered by them, and rendered even more useless than any of us well-meaning white people are in the wake of these senseless deaths.

So I called up my friend who was raised in inner-city Chicago, and has largely raised her own kids in the same ghetto, and I asked her how she goes on. How she makes sense of it. How she copes.

She said that it makes her sick. She said she had watched both videos, and was struck by the lack of any real danger in either situation that would have warranted the level of force the officers used. She also said that what makes her sicker is that on any given weekend in Chicago, dozens of black lives are taken by other black people, and she wonders why no one protests about that. She said the fact that so many poor black people use deadly force against each other does not justify the police behavior, but it does play into the fear that the police officers must feel when they go to work.

I suppose she is right. And I suppose that it is this fear that we must address, only I am certain that the fear these cops feel stems not only from the guns in these men's hands, but from the color of their skin.

Somehow, it feels like we are going backward as a society, and it scares the hell out of me. And while I in no way condone the shooting of police officers who are trying to do their job, I also do not condone all the acquittals that have been rendered by mostly white juries. And I understand that rage is fueled by feelings of helplessness. And I know that if we don't start treating these deaths differently as a society, we will continue to pay a high price. All of us. As a human race.

Not really sure there is an appropriate song to mark this day, or this string of days, but this is the one that comes to mind:

The world is a vampire, sent to drain
Secret destroyers, hold you up to the flames
And what do I get, for my pain?
Betrayed desires, and a piece of the game

Even though I know - I suppose I'll show
All my cool and cold - like old job

Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage
Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage
Then someone will say what is lost can never be saved
Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage

Now I'm naked, nothing but an animal
But can you fake it, for just one more show?
And what do you want?
I want to change
And what have you got, when you feel the same?

Even though I know - I suppose I'll show
All my cool and cold - like old job

Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage
Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage
Then someone will say what is lost can never be saved
Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage

Tell me I'm the only one
Tell me there's no other one
Jesus was the only son, yeah.
Tell me I'm the chosen one
Jesus was the only son for you

Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage
Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage
And someone will say what is lost can never be saved
Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage

Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a-
Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a-
Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage

Tell me I'm the only one
Tell me there's no other one
Jesus was the only son for you

And I still believe that I cannot be saved