The midpoint of my Saturday evening run was Carl Schurz Park, and unbeknownst to me, it was also where a Black Lives Matter event was being held. About 40-50 people were seated, social distancing, and intently listening to the speaker, a Reverend and a Black man. I took my headphones off, and found a spot to sit as his impassioned message replaced my music.
While I had missed the build up to this point, it was clear the speech was at its climax, and with it, a certain analogy that I want to share:
He spoke of how being a Black man or woman in this country was the equivalent of drowning, but with a trove of people able to help you looking on from the nearby shore.
He asked: “Why did you grow up without a father?”
To which he replied: “I’M DROWNING.”
He asked: “Why don’t you just stop doing drugs?”
To which he replied: “I’M DROWNING.”
He continued: “The only way to save someone from drowning is how you’d want to be saved yourself—with everyone around you throwing down what they’re doing to come and save you. And yet, for some reason, we keep asking those that are drowning to come meet us on shore, so we can help them there. The other details simply do not matter...if you are drowning. ”
I didn’t catch the Reverend’s name, but after his speech, the group participated in a silent reflection for 8 minutes and 46 seconds, in honor of George Floyd. With each passing second, the Reverend’s words echoed through my brain, and continued to do so with every step home.
