My mother had peculiar fears about drowning, so, she arranged for us to take swimming lessons at a very young age. I love water, and swimming is a very sweet spot even now. Good swimmers know how, or more importantly, when to breathe. They master breath control because surviving in the water depends on it. Water can transcend the soul to a place beyond itself. It can be associated with new beginnings or sad endings. For instance, the breaking of water prior to childbirth signifies new life and holds within it a reflection of our ancestors.
From the shores of Africa, black mothers have been holding their breath while “wading in the water” for centuries. Forced from their native continent, shipped as chattel. Many could not fathom life elsewhere and decided their own fate within the depths of the sea. Drowned to maintain the dignity of souls deemed anti-human. Those who endured the journey arrived on unknown shores and died with the “hope and dream of the slave.”
While systemic injustices scream and shout for the right to maintain the status quo, Black folk are still in labor. A history of brokenness, horror, and pain continues as we wade through muddy waters, unable to reach the shore. “A picture is worth a thousand words,” but a knee on the neck is worth a million pictures. On May 25, 2020, the world saw a dark part of this nation’s history in living color. We continue to be discounted, disregarded, disenfranchised, and dismantled. The recurring nightmare has yet to be reconciled.
As mothers watched George Floyd die, Black mothers saw their greatest fear, the killing of their sons. He uttered the words of our ancestors, “I can’t breathe!” None of us were surprised. Black America understood the weight of those words that challenge every ounce of dignity we have. Unlike their counterparts, our children do not have the luxury of routine traffic stops, routine anything! Black mothers, like Duante Wright’s, know that getting stopped could be the last thing our children ever do. I call it PTPS-Post Traumatic Police Disorder. This is what happens when Black people encounter law enforcement. It triggers anxiety that says, “Will this stop cost me my life?”
Fair treatment and justice come at a price, but Black America wonders when the debt will be paid. George Floyd’s death moved us to take a deep dive into a painful but familiar topic, except this time everyone shared the horror. We cried, grieved, and mourned over a man killed by a person who represents law and order. Though most will never admit it, underneath our breath, Black mothers were saying, “Thank you, that this time it was not our son.”
My son is in the US Marines, but way before he got there, he was raised with survival techniques. Whenever he walked out of our door, he was reminded of our love and the world’s fear of him. He was told that his beautiful black skin is a threat, and no matter what he does, please make it back home.
No matter the age, mothers are always concerned about the well-being of their children. An ethereal bond exists, the power of the womb, a bond that surpasses logic and transcends life. Black communities understand the power of Black Mamas. She is symbolic of headquarters, a haven, and the one person who has your back. No matter where you are, or what you do, she represents unconditional love and acceptance. She is where we are fed, nurtured, comforted, sustained, and rebuilt. Black Mamas will go to the ends of the Earth for the sake of their children.
Last year, mothers across the world heard a familiar cry, a son calling his Mama. We saw our babies, sons, brothers, nephews, cousins, and ancestors screaming for justice. George Floyd is the son of a movement that has not evolved since the Rodney King beating. That was also captured on camera, the officers were acquitted. What we have been unable to convey in centuries, was captured by Darnella Frazier, a savvy teenager, in distress, but with the presence of mind and bravery to press “Play.” The result, Derek Chauvin must now reap the consequences of his choice.
Chauvin, like this nation, is deeply wounded, contorted, and conflicted. It’s time to repair a broken system designed for those with power, influence, and money, who do whatever they want, with minimal consequences to be accountable. It’s time for this nation, built on the backs of our ancestors to face the consequences of their actions and heal. Both Floyd and Chauvin, are now unchosen faces of a movement. George Floyd for reconciliation and justice and Derrick Chauvin for racism and accountability. Hopefully, George’s death will alter the fate and history of Black people in this country.
Black Mamas saw a grown man destroyed by a legal system sworn to protect and serve life. Almost a year later, a guilty verdict allowed us to finally breathe. The prophetic utterance of his own child looms in the air, “Daddy changed the world.” Together, we watched God use a common man with life issues, from harsh circumstances, who loved his family. A Mama’s boy, an athlete who never reached his own promised land, strive to get others to theirs. I believe God used a “big ole” black man, a gentle giant to demonstrate to the world that human dignity is not a color, it is a birthright.
Onlookers heard him scream for his mama, but I believe, His Mama was screaming for him. On that pavement, I envisioned George Floyd, with divine assistance from his beloved mother, surrender his own life. In those moments, there was no more suffering or sorrow, the image of the former things were done. If heaven can give a miracle beyond the grave, it would be to mothers for the sake of their children.
So, I believe a gracious God in those last moments, sent his Mama, with living water in hand, to refresh the dying soul of her son. I imagine them walking together, with cups running over, hand in hand, reunited in love and adulation. As they began to chat, she said, “Son, you fulfilled the purposes of God in your generation.” Then they waded through peaceful waters, looked beyond the shores, and heard, “Well done.” ●
