Do not act surprised by the verdict in the Zimmerman trial

"What happens when instead of becoming enraged and shocked every time a black person is killed in the United States, we recognize black death as a predictable and constitutive aspect of this democracy? What will happen then if instead of demanding justice we recognize (or at least consider) that the very notion of justice…produces or requires black exclusion and death as normative?" -Joao Costa Vargas and Joy A. James, "Refusing Blackness-as-Victimization: Trayvon Martin and the Black Cyborgs"

I used to think that the most fundamental privilege of whiteness was that it never had to name itself, never had to be the object of a critical gaze. Now I think I’ve changed my mind. Perhaps the most fundamental white privilege in the United States is the ability to believe that the institutions of the Justice system work the way they’re supposed to – you know, that they ensure “justice.”

There is a reason that after yesterday’s Not Guilty verdict in the George Zimmerman trial so many black people proclaimed their lack of surprise. Because for black Americans, what happened yesterday wasn’t a blip in the system, but the way the system is supposed to work.

Nothing changed yesterday. Before the verdict, it was ok to kill black people with impunity. The verdict reminded everyone of this, just in case anyone forgot.

But let me quote Gary Younge’s superb article in The Guardian on the specific case for a second (you should absolutely stop reading my piece right now and go read Younge’s, then come back. In fact, you should also go read this, this, and this.):

“Let it be noted that on this day, Saturday 13 July 2013, it was still deemed legal in the US to chase and then shoot dead an unarmed young black man on his way home from the store because you didn't like the look of him.

The killing of 17-year-old Trayvon Martin last year was tragic. But in the age of Obama the acquittal of George Zimmerman offers at least that clarity. For the salient facts in this case were not in dispute. On 26 February 2012 Martin was on his way home, minding his own business armed only with a can of iced tea and a bag of Skittles. Zimmerman pursued him, armed with a 9mm handgun, believing him to be a criminal. Martin resisted. They fought. Zimmerman shot him dead.

Who screamed. Who was stronger. Who called whom what and when and why are all details to warm the heart of a cable news producer with 24 hours to fill. Strip them all away and the truth remains that Martin's heart would still be beating if Zimmerman had not chased him down and shot him.

There is no doubt about who the aggressor was here. The only reason the two interacted at all, physically or otherwise, is that Zimmerman believed it was his civic duty to apprehend an innocent teenager who caused suspicion by his existence alone.”

Younge is absolutely right. The entire confrontation was initiated by Zimmerman. Even if, at some point in the confrontation, Martin had “gotten the upper hand,” the fact remains that if not for Zimmerman’s pursuit of the child, no confrontation would have taken place.

Which leads me to a question I raised in a previous post (and I am far from the only person to raise this question; I am not claiming any original thought here): on what ground could Trayvon Martin had stood if he had killed Zimmerman for chasing him down?

Same scenario: Zimmerman sees Martin out the window of his car, calls 911, tells the 911 operator he’s going to follow the kid, the operator tells Zimmerman not to follow the child, Zimmerman gets out of his car anyway and pursues him, Martin feels threatened by the creepy guy twice his size following him when all he’s doing is trying to walk home unarmed at night.

But now let’s get hypothetical. Let’s say that at this point Martin turns around and asks Zimmerman why he’s following him, and Zimmerman approaches and the two start shoving each other, and Martin takes a swing and connects, Zimmerman falls to the ground, and his skull is fractured on the pavement. Zimmerman dies. Do you think there’s any chance that Martin could appeal to the Stand Your Ground law on the grounds that he felt his life was threatened by this scary, armed man and so he was just defending himself?

No, because Trayvon Martin is not included in that “Your” of the Stand Your Ground law. Blackness is the ground on which the edifice of the State and its laws is erected, and it’s really hard to stand your ground when you are the ground.

Don’t believe me? Think I’m being too harsh? Too pessimistic? Not placing enough faith in the U.S. justice system? Take a look at this chart which illustrates how, "In non-Stand Your Ground states, whites are 250 percent more likely to be found justified in killing a black person than a white person who kills another white person; in Stand Your Ground states, that number jumps to 354 percent." 

Black life is not worth as much as other life. Black death is not mourned like other death. In fact, it is celebrated, as we saw in the post-verdict press conferences and on Twitter (trigger warning: there are very painful Tweets collected in that link). And for those who, be it consciously or unconsciously, retain a commitment to American democracy and American justice systems because of their protection within them thanks to the fact that both are deeply entrenched in the ideology of white supremacy (and despite what SCOTUS may think, white supremacy was not eradicated in the 1960s), this celebration makes total sense. Celebrate the sacrificial expenditure that makes possible the continuity of the community. That’s just what’s done.

Because in order for American society to continue, blackness must be contained, and those bearing its mark must be ghettoized, stopped and frisked, locked up, disenfranchised, and killed in order that the machine keeps moving.

But so many folks are already saying all of this, and saying it much better than I can. So what are we to do?

First of all, we can’t do nothing, and we can’t tell folks who are doing something to slow down. If you don’t want to change the system, you are not being cautious or careful or moderate, you are being actively oppressive. Because the system as it currently exists is unjust; the status quo is morally unacceptable. So to call for a halt of attempts to overhaul this status quo is to call for the continuity of oppression – of murder.

Second, we all have skin in this game. Fellow white folks, don’t you dare for a minute believe that this isn’t a fight for us as well. (“Whiteness to me is oppression. And it oppresses not just black people, but people who think it offers them something other than dominance over their fellow man. Poor white people have been sold a bill of goods that offers them white supremacy and takes away jobs and economic growth.” – Steve Locke).  Don’t you dare for a minute try to silence movements which call attention to race by shaking your white liberal finger at them and telling them that they’re naïve and we should all really be talking about class. Instead, we must ask ourselves what we can do to actively resist a system that is set up to our advantage. And a word of advice along the way: we must never forget our privilege as long as it exists. As tempting as it will be to echo cries of “We are Trayvon Martin” or to take to the streets wearing hoodies, we must remember that hoodies draped over our white bodies do not hold the same meaning as hoodies draped over black bodies. As long as that's true, we must fight.

Third, we all can do something. Not everyone has to become a street-marching activist, or a politician, or a director of a non-profit, or a public defense attorney, or an academic, or a journalist. But, to channel Fred Moten, and perhaps offer a different inflection, everywhere there is the potential for performance (which is everywhere, because we are always performing, whether we’re paid to do so or not), there is potential for resistance.

My pessimism is a resignation to the facts of history which create our contemporary moment, facts which unequivocally demonstrate that America is a country inextricably built upon an ideology of white supremacy and anti-blackness, and that our current systems have not exorcised this legacy. Me pessimism is an acknowledgement that anti-blackness is not a symptom of American capitalism, but one of its fundamental principles, and one of the foundations on which this country stands. I believe we have to acknowledge the enormity of these things (especially white folks, since it is our interests which are most clearly served by not acknowledging these things), but my pessimism is not a resignation to a belief that things will always be this way. I retain a profound commitment to working towards a Justice that does not yet exist.

I have no idea yet what it will look like, but I know it will look nothing like this.