My sister-friend posted this video, along with this comment: this was 1974, 1874, 1774.... this behavior is an extension of the affects of slavery. That is why people are angry. Now we know. But what really struck me was the last few seconds of the video. And heres why. My father, (i baiye baiye tunu (sp.)), who transitioned in the 90s, never ever never ever hit me. He was a sweet man and I was a daddys girl. BUT, he almost wanted to beat me down once and only once.... and you know when that was? After an encounter with the police. One evening when he was coming home, a cop had stopped him on our street, and it was so close to the house that I could see them. When he came inside I asked him what happened and he said he got a ticket. For some strange reason, I thought that this was funny???? Not sure why, but I started laughing and teasing him, because in my (naive) mind it wasnt that big of a deal. He was visibly shaken and he wanted to make me stop saying whatever it was I was saying and my mother actually had to talk hip out of whooping my azz. Do you hear me????? I said I remember my mother talking him down off the ledge... a man who never laid a finger on me EVER.... a man who had always protected me.. My PROTECTOR. My HERO. My DADDY. This was one of my first lessons about the police and black bodies... Nobody had to explain anything to me. Because I immediately knew that something humiliating and vile had taken place that night between the cops and my Daddy - a law abiding, business owning, sweet, strong, and gentle family man. That one evening changed my life, even though I will never know exactly what happened that night when he got stopped... But, I do know this: something happened that broke a piece of his heart that night.
Posted on: Tue, 16 Dec 2014 14:53:33 +0000
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