I spent twenty-five years wearing a badge. I’ve lost friends and colleagues at the hands of hardened criminals and deranged madmen. I’ve hugged their family members and fellow cops, sharing our grief and asking, “Why?” I’ve also investigated countless shootings and murders, absorbing the visions of carnage, forever seared into my memory. I’ve hugged victim’s family members, sobbing in grief and unable to answer, “Why?”
As a human being I can be equally moved by the pain of mothers who have lost their children to gun violence or police encounters and the pain of slain police officers’ spouses and families. I think our common humanity requires us to see one another’s heartbreak and fear as the one important emotion that can unite us, regardless of what side of the social argument we’re on. If we can stop for just one moment to acknowledge the grief in our hearts, it might become possible to see our common humanity.
Perhaps that narrow but critical breakthrough might help us all to focus more on solutions to the violence that plagues our communities and claims the lives of far too many citizens and police officers. Despite the media narrative, fueled by extremists bent on using hate to vilify and divide by race and occupation, I heard a different message last night from a group of women bound together by loss. Their stories differ in detail, and I am very aware of the highly emotional debates raging on both sides of the thin blue line. So, I listened to the mothers speak with trepidation, uncertain of what message they might share.
What I heard were words of loss and pain, but also a plea for an end to violence. I also heard a message that most of you probably didn’t hear. I heard a statement of law enforcement support. It’s true. I don’t care what any news outlet tells you, Lucia McBath, the mother of Jordan Davis, shot at a Jacksonville, FL convenience store over loud music said this:
“We’re going to keep building a future where police officers and communities of color work together in mutual respect to keep children, like Jordan, safe. Because the majority of police officers are good people doing a good job.”
I’m not certain how any of us could possibly argue with that. We all want that. We can argue about the how’s and why’s, and in a democracy we should have those debates. The deep wounds our country has experienced recently have exposed the folly of our continued refusal to listen to one another. Our denial of our common humanity and the pain of those outside of our social circles or rung on the ladder or race or profession is blowing up in our collective faces.
There is no other way to say it.
My friends, law enforcement is at a critical crossroads. Never in my lifetime has the danger of the job been more real. But, you have the backing of the vast majority of the citizens you serve. This is not some civil war of black communities vs. the police. Those mothers spoke unequivocally that they support good and decent law enforcement, and know that most of you are doing your jobs well. It is not incompatible to say you support police, but want bad police held accountable. Just as it’s not contradictory to say you support the community, but condemn those committing violence. This should be easy to totally agree upon. Bad officers make all of us less safe, whether you wear a badge or not. Real criminals should be dealt with severely, but not every activity should be criminalized. Gun violence is shredding the fabric of our society and making everyone less safe. The toll on us all is breaking every one of our hearts.
To those who continue to sow divisions by twisting words or editing messages for a negative agenda, please stop. You are not helping. I, for one, am willing to talk to anyone who wants to join together to find solutions. That is what my conscience calls me to do.
I can say #blacklivesmatter and #bluelivesmatter without a hint of contradiction in my heart. Our humanity matters. We can end this suffering, if we only start seeing and hearing each other.