The Personal Side of Bias, Prejudice and Oppression

**Disclaimer: This post describes a memory that is very touchy for me. In it, I may state my feelings and/or perception, but it is not, in any way, to spark debate. Due to my sensitivity on the subject matter, I stay far away from debates on the topic. I feel that I should be able to share my memory without engaging in debates of any kind, for any reason. Please respect that.

As I reflect on the past few weeks of my current course on Perspective Diversity and Equity, I realize that this course has stirred up so many real, raw emotions in me. There are times where I feel as though my timing for the course is wrong. At a time where media sources are covering so many police shootings of men who look like me and could so easily be my son, husband, father, cousin, etc; just about every topic that we’ve covered, can be related to the subject of race, police brutality, and minority groups in general in one way or another. Unfortunately for me, I have a memory, which I will carry forever, where I witnessed someone very near to me be the target of prejudice.

It’s just like it was yesterday. I had fallen asleep with no worries only to wake up with my life in shambles. “David is dead,” my cousin yelled at me as I awoke completely confused and uncertain about what I was hearing. I thought it was a dream. But, within minutes my mom had confirmed that it was true. My first cousin, the closest person I had to a biological brother had been shot and killed.

My cousin had been coming from a night at the bowling alley with friends, was stopped in what was supposed to be a routine traffic stop (“broken tail light”) and murdered as a result. “Lil David,” as our family lovingly called him had been killed and we could not understand why. His hands were up, he did not have any weapons, four other people in the car riddled with bullets including his five month old daughter, but no one on the police force could explain why. It’s been nine years now, the officer was acquitted and my family has yet to receive any answers.

After hearing and understanding the details of the case, I felt that my cousin was murdered as a result of prejudice. A young, black male, with a head of locs, riding after midnight, with more than one passenger in the ghettos of Savannah, GA, had to be up to no good. Is what I picture them saying to themselves. The tags were registered, no stolen plate, no warrants associated with the tags, there’s got to be something. His tail light! I picture them saying. He never stepped out of his car. Though he was hit multiple times, the fatal gunshot was one that passed through his wrist (that were up, as advised) and into his neck. He laid on the ground and bled out, the friends in the car unable to assist him, hug him, or even just let them know that they were there with him as his last breath left his body.

I was completely upset by the situation. I cried. I was angry. I wanted to fight. I asked why. I prayed for understanding. I prayed for him to come back. Nothing worked though, at the end of the day, he was definitely gone and never coming back. Through personal faith in the Lord, the support of my family and the love that we showed to one another, is what got us through one of the most difficult times in our lives. Nine years later, it still hurts to relive this memory, and even though the situation tears me to pieces, I continue to live life without hatred or prejudice in my heart for anyone.