Between Pain and Pain

I live in a city where black folk and white folk live together, work together, and play together. I see in the conversations and faces around me that the things that are happening in our world are not disembodied, it's not just out there. The pain is real. The fear is real.

I live in a family where my brother and closest friends are police officers. I know that most police officers are good men and women. I know that most police officers are sickened by what they saw on that tape where Eric Garner died. I know that most police officers will never discharge a weapon and that most would never do the things that a few do.

Yet, something that a friend said Tuesday rings in my heart and my head,

"This legal system was not originally designed 2 deliver justice 4 black men, cause we were only considered 3/5 of a man." -- me last night

— Tyler St. Clair (@TylerpKCC) December 3, 2014

I've never thought about things this way. Our country was founded on the basis that some of the people in our country were less than. At some point, if we're going to embrace the pain of our brethren we must come to terms with the reality that we must also speak for them.

I also must speak for the good men and women who wear blue. They rush in when others rush out. It's easy for us to judge when we've never faced the evil they face daily.

If we are serious about justice, racial harmony, and above all, love; then we must be able to speak for both.

We must speak against the injustices experienced by the minority cultures in our country. We must also speak against the violence and crime that police officers must face every day. It cannot be either/or. It must be both/and.

We are standing between pain and pain. Our voices rise from between fear and fear.