I won't pretend I'm perfect. Lord knows I am truly not. In my childhood years, I did and said a many things my own mother would be shocked to the core by. Outlandish, ignorant, racist things. However, looking back, I was not even 10 years old. I won't blame the times or location for my ignorance.
I was simply ignorant, but hat ignorance was not who I became.
My mother worked hard to make sure my brother and I were properly educated. A woman who instilled a can-do attitude and morals and values in her children is an accomplishment of which she can be proud.
But, I still feel shame for the things I did as an ignorant child just I feel shame for the events unfolding in Chicago.
Last night, I attempted to sit down and watch the Facebook Live video (it has been removed from Facebook but you can see it on YouTube here). Tears flooded my eyes and my heart tightened in my chest. So many feelings flooded through my body. Disgust being at the top. I felt sickened by the disgust of knowing that parents out there were not doing their jobs. I felt disgust that we have young adults in this country who laugh at this behavior. I felt disgust that more of the viewers of that Facebook Live video did not speak out while this was happening.
All of this left me feeling thoroughly nauseated.
I could only tolerate less than five minutes of the video. After that point, the mom in me broke down. This young man sat suffering endlessly while his panic stricken parents waited and hoped. It's possible he sat there not understanding why this was happening to him. It's possible he sat there wondering why. What did he do to deserve this?
It could have been my child.
It could have been your child.
It could have been any one's child or loved one who was kicked, hit, cut, etc. My tears streamed down my cheeks knowing that no matter how horrible a crime this is, the restitution won't be enough.
As I cried, I knew that these thoughts and behaviors didn't just pop up when they turned 18. I cried for the victim.
I weep for the future of this country.
I haven't posted in a while due to hectic life situations, but it's also because I've been sitting on this particular post. Sometimes I wonder my brother knows how proud I am. I worry that he doesn't. He and I took very different paths in life and I hope he realizes that though his path took him on a different journey, I am prouder (more proud?) than words can possibly every express.
Dear Brother,
Almost 34 years ago, I was welcomed into this world and introduced to you. In that instant, you became my big brother. My first friend. I became your shadow and witness to some awesomely stupid things (like that one time you ran into a tree and knocked yourself out cold).
As a big brother, you were my protector. I still remember relying on you one cold morning in Chicago to protect me from a bully. I knew even then that you were steadfast and true. My big brother. Even through our years of puberty when we were constantly at each other's throats, you were a leader. Someone who would do everything so big and bright there was no way I could compete. And I never wanted to. I simply wanted to watch my big brother succeed.
Fast forward to our adult years, and here I am. Yes, I teach. Yes, I am mother to your two awesome nieces. Yes, I am still watching from the sidelines while you shine bigger and brighter with every passing year.
And my heart swells with pride. I am proud of my first friend, my leader. I am proud of my big brother. I apologize if I don't say it enough, but I am. Each and every day you walk headfirst into hurricane winds pushing you back. You strive to ignore the tiny whispers that might deter you from your goal. You stride toward your own definition of success with your Artist's flag flying proudly. For that, I am proud.
Love,
Your little sister
