05/30/2020
To be silent is to be complicit. As a doctor and a mother, my fury at what was done to this man is unlimited, as is my heartbreak. As a white person, my commitment to be actively anti-racist is the very least I can do.
On George Floyd, and the word “Mama”:
What does it mean that his last words were to call out for his mother?
It means that he was desperate, that he needed her; this is what many of us do with our last breaths, whether we’re soldiers in a civil war, or cancer patients in a hospice. We call for our mothers, who stand for love and care, who stand (emotionally, if not in fact) between us and harm.
It means that THIS WAS SOMEONE'S CHILD. You’ve heard this phrase before; it’s the magic algorithm we use to remind ourselves of another's humanity. Maybe you’re walking by a homeless person and you’re tired and preoccupied and texting, but you tell yourself: wait, remember, this is someone’s child. When you can’t find love in your heart, and this happens to all of us sometimes, because we’re afraid or sad or having a moment of indifference; all you have to do is remind yourself that this is someone’s child.
The parent-child bond is the evolutionary basis of love and compassion. The human impulse to care and protect started with mothers and their offspring, and over thousands of years of evolution, it radiated outward from there. It’s the force that stirs the hardest hearts, it’s what turns us all to quivering jelly, whether we admit it or not. Thousands of years of evolution have made us this way.
“I can’t breathe” has become a rallying cry; and it says it all -- or nearly all. “I can’t breathe” is the shocking brutality, “I can’t breathe” is the knee in the neck. It galvanizes; it will stir a generation to action.
But “Mama” says something else. “Mama” is love and compassion and yearning. “Mama” cuts through fears and biases, guilt and indifference. It softens. It unites.
We didn’t know George Floyd, and we didn’t know his Mama. But we know how he longed for her on Monday night; we’ll feel the same thing one day, whether we exit this world through illness or violence.
And we know how we’d feel if this had happened to our own son.
If George Floyd’s mother were still alive to hear them, no words would ease her pain. But we would try to speak them, anyway; we would do our best to tell her how sorry we are about her son.