Dear Ms. McSpadden,
I am writing because I don't know what else to do. I have been reading articles, listening to the news on the radio and online, reading other people's responses and praying. I sit in silence with you, miles away, saddened by your tragic and horrific loss. I cannot imagine the pain and suffering you are experiencing. I do pray that the God of all comfort will indeed bring you some comfort, that you will be able to have peace that surpasses all understanding. I am sorry beyond words. I hope and pray that injustices like this will cease. May God bring peace to you and your family and your community.
I don't know all of the details of what took place the day your son was killed, and I don't need to. I just know that he was an 18 year old unarmed man that was shot at least six times by an officer, and that your son was black, and the officer white. I am embarrassed by the way the Ferguson police have acted towards blacks in your community, embarrassed by the way they have handled things over the past 10 days since your son's death. I am saddened and ashamed for them and desperately wish it was different.
I must tell you now, that I am white. I might have some olive skin, brown eyes and brown hair, but I'm white and with that comes some very real "white privilege." I confess I wasn't aware of this "privilege" until I was in graduate school and took a class called Diversity in my Psychology master's program outside of Chicago. It was the best two week course and I am forever grateful for what it made me realize, finally. I wish all Americans had to take a class like this. This was the same summer that the movie Crash was released, which brought it all home even more. It felt like for the first time in my life I had to own up to my own racism and discrimination and "whiteness". No one is exempt from racism, we just have to acknowledge it and fight against it.
After grad school I moved to a smallish rural town in Oklahoma to marry my boyfriend at the time and I started working at a community mental health center. I was blown away by the overt and subtle ways racism was alive and active in my town. I met people who reported to hate "all blacks and Jews". I met one older white man who vehemently hated black people so much that he turned the copy of the Oprah magazine I had on my desk over. I was beyond shocked. I met a young man who wasn't sure of his exact ethnicity but identified himself primarily as African American and claimed to hate all white people and wanted to shoot every white person he could. I met with him alone in my office to talk about what he might need (I was a bit terrified due to his reported hatred for people like me) but he said "you're alright, I can talk to you because you have dark eyes and brown hair...and you have a picture of MLK in your office, so I know you are alright." Whew!
I tell you a bit about myself in that light because I want you to know that I am still learning. I have not walked in your shoes, I have not experienced someone following me around in a store, I have never had to worry about being pulled over because of the color of my skin, I can find bandaids that match my skin color easily at wal-mart, I am exempt from so much simply because my skin is white. Yet, I am more and more aware of this disparity. I am dreadfully aware of what it is like to be the mother of a black son because my son, Isaac, is black. He was born in Ethiopia and we adopted him in December 2010 when he was just a year old. He is now 4 1/2. He is so handsome, so full of life and energy and creativity and laughter and joy and love. Our daughter, Aniyah, came home November 2013 and is also from Ethiopia, so I also know (am learning) what is is like to have a black daughter. But my son, oh I fear for my son. When he plays with toy guns, or picks up sticks and pretends to shoot at people walking by our house, I snatch him up so quickly and we have to talk about how that is not ok, ever. I scold him constantly when out in public to stay near me and do what is right. I know how he will be perceived when he gets older and is out in public on his own. It kills me to think how others will perceive him simply because of the color of his skin, instead of the content of his amazing character. When will Martin Luther's dream really come true? The fear and stereotyping that we all have and do will continue to paralyze us, unless there can be peace and justice and love. MLK said "Darkness cannot drive out darkness, only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that." I am ready for the love to shine through and break through the hatred and bigotry and ignorance and darkness. I hope my son will be free from the prejudices that plague so much of our country still.
I will never understand why your son was shot and killed so brutally when he was unarmed. I will never understand why the police decided they would release a tape of someone, whom they claim was your son and maybe it was, robbing a QT the same time they released the name of the officer who shot and killed your son. As if that information was relevant. As if that information was justified. So shameful. I am embarrassed by people's responses on Facebook. I saw one post about "7 ways to not be shot at by cops"--1. Don't be in a gang 2. don't rob a convenience store 3. Don't walk in the middle of the road....and so on. It made me SO angry to read that post. I cried and "hid" it. We who are not black will NEVER understand. I listened to a great sermon this morning when I was out on a walk. The preacher talked about how his blond-haired blue-eyed son will never worry about being shot by a cop, because he is white...and that's the difference, and we just don't get it.
My heart breaks that my son and every mother's son who is of color will have to grow up and will experience this direct discrimination. My son will never be able to just walk down the street with his hands in his pockets, wearing a hoodie, without someone questioning him. But I could, my husband could without any fear of what others may think or how we would be perceived.
The best thing I have seen was actually on John Oliver. He is passionate about the depressing and ridiculous story this has become (mostly about the police and the riots, etc) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KUdHIatS36A&feature=youtu.be
He speaks what I think so many people are thinking. But unfortunately, I am so saddened to say, the voices that spoke up about a person's 1st Amendment rights after a redneck got kicked off a duck show, well, those same
voices are strangely quiet about what's happening in Ferguson. This makes me ill. It is time for a change. It is time for solidarity. It is time to rise up against injustices and to embrace and charge forward with radical racial reconciliation. I don't know what it will take exactly, but I know I am here and ready and willing. I stand beside you. A white woman, a mother to an amazing black son, I stand beside you in solidarity, Ms. McSpadden. May God come quickly!
Most sincerely from the bottom of my heart,
Anna Irwin
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