As a coping mechanism, I try not to get too emotionally invested in the police killing of Black people. Obviously, these killings are impossible to ignore, but I look for ways to not get too affected by the latest iteration of injustice personified.
I used to have a similar coping mechanism for homelessness.I was living in Philly in the early 90s, right after the Byberry mental hospital closed, spilling a lot of Black mental patients onto the streets. Many of them flocked to Center City, where I lived. Most of them were harmless. They begged anyone for anything that could help them survive. It was a lot — wanting to help but feeling overwhelmed at the enormity of the problem.
So, I found my dude. There was one man I consistently helped out with money, food, and clothes. He said his name was Skinny. Helping Skinny helped relieve me of the guilt of walking past so many others who desperately needed help, too. I knew I couldn’t save the world. But I felt I did my part by being one of the ones to help Skinny.
When it comes to police killing Black people, Eric Garner was my Skinny. I was so upset at the circumstance of his 2014 killing that I made it the benchmark for my outrage. I figured anything that happened to anyone else couldn’t be worse — until 2016, when Philando Castile was shot right in front of his girlfriend and daughter.
Some people say the cops knocked and identified themselves when they broke down Breonna’s door. A neighbor claims he heard it. Other neighbors — and Breonna’s boyfriend, Kenneth Walker — say they didn’t. Breonna isn’t around to ask, and she was asleep anyway.
I just imagine if it was my house the cops barged into. When I’m in bed, I usually have the TV on and the bedroom door closed. To avoid the noise of loud cars, motorcycles, and sirens flying by on the street, I often turn my sound bar up to IMAX loud. If anyone knocks on my front door and tries to identify themselves, I’m not going to hear them.
Also, I fall asleep hard. You can set off a stick of dynamite in the bed in my first couple of hours of sleep, and I won’t flinch. They could bust down my front door, burst into my bedroom, and toss a grenade, and I might not wake up.
On the other hand, if I’m awake, and I hear you coming up the stairs when I’m home alone, I’ll have at least a shoe ready to throw at you. If that’s enough to justify shooting someone dead in my bed, if I’d been in Breonna Taylor’s place, I’d probably be dead too.
Unlike in TV sitcoms or soap operas, most people don’t answer the door within three seconds of someone ringing their bell. The next time your doorbell rings unexpectedly, count how long it takes you to get there and open up. Chances are, you ain’t going to answer the door at all if you aren’t expecting anyone.
I imagine there are extreme situations where breaking down a door with no warning to gain entry to a home is justified. But as long as no-knock warrants are executed, mistakes will be made and people will get hurt. Occasionally, a bad guy will get caught. But the police could probably have caught them by just waiting for them to come out the house.
Say Her Name!
Stefan Roots blogs at Chester Matters and at Covid While Black.
