Rage (I Just Had To Write This) I don’t condone it but I do understand it. Imagine this; I was 12 years old on a bus with some friends coming home from the movie theater. The bus pulls up to a stop and suddenly the police run on the bus with their guns pointed at us while they demanded that we lay face down on the floor. Imagine being turned over on the floor by a hand that is shaking like a leaf. He put the double barreled shot gun right on my nose and said don’t move you F’ing “N” word” or I will blow your head off. Imagine looking into those eyes of hate and seeing the sweat fall from his brow as he slowly lowered me back to the floor with that gun on my nose and his finger on the trigger. Rage begins when you are helplessly facing a death that you don’t even deserve. This was my life in South Central Los Angeles. The police there acted like a sanctioned terrorist group. I was always cowering with fear when the police passed by and if they looked at me I often turned around and went the other direction real fast. I didn’t want to die by being another mistake shooting. Mistake shootings by the police happened all the time in our neighborhood. Don’t get me wrong, I was no saint but I was not public enemy #1 either. My biggest crime was being male and Black. At least that’s the way it felt then and continues to feel now. Rage becomes comfort when the truth is hidden by stereotypical lies used to profile, detain and physically abuse. It is a familiar feeling that cannot be taken from you by a racist thug in a police uniform. When I was 8 years old my friend (Chucky) and I witnessed the police murdering a Black man in the alley. After they had beaten and killed him they pulled out their penises and peed on his body while calling him a dead “N” word. Then they drove off like nothing had happened. So many people claim that this is not about race but they dont live in my skjin color. People that do know that this is all about race. Anyway, we (Chucky & me) were hiding behind the bushes and heard him screaming and begging them to stop. I’ll never forget that scream as long as I live. That man screamed until he was lying silent in a pool of blood. Rage festers when helplessness becomes a fact of life. It becomes the only retaliation that the perceived enemy cannot control. Your emotions and your anger are yours and no one can take that away. It is only when you act violently on those emotions that you lose that right. Silent anger is perceived as peaceful. Much in the same way that the slave in the field had to hold his anger and take the lashes on his back without reaction, so it is in a so called civil world where respect for men in uniform is considered to be a sacred practice. According to the status quo, we are all supposed to bow down to the officers and let them do their job. If they decide to put their hands on us we are not supposed to resist. Just let them treat you any way and you won’t have to worry about being choked to death for selling some damn cigarettes or breaking up a fight. Cigarettes? Is that all a Black man’s life is worth now? Anyway, for the rest of my miserable existence in the police state known as the hood, the police were the one constant enemy that the entire neighborhood feared and hated. They were terrorists on wheels. They picked me and my friends up routinely and they constantly tried to pin crimes that we would never dream of committing on us. I sat in the back of police cars countless times and watched as they brought someone who had been victimized over to identify me. Relief would always rush over me when they shook their heads no and said he is not the one. Then, they would take off the hand cuffs and tell me to get the F’ out of there. One of my great fears was that one day someone would commit a crime that looked a lot like me. I knew going to jail for something I didn’t do was highly possible. I had many friends in jail for things they had not done. Rage becomes hate when the enemy is well defined and is always in your face or in the faces of your friends and family. When the police become the last ones to call, there is a problem. Quite often the victim would call the police and wind up being arrested himself. So, it became common practice not to call the police unless it was absolutely necessary. So, I moved up to the Bay Area a few years after I came home from Vietnam. I got religion and even became a minister (Prison Chaplain). All was cozy and right in my new life serving my community. I was on my way to San Jose Juvenile hall one Sunday morning to bring church to the children there. Suddenly the most ominous thing that can happen to a Black man happened. The police were flashing their lights and made me pull over. I watched in my rear view mirror as they jumped out of the car with their guns out. I immediately put my hands up so they could see them. One came to the driver’s side while the other crept up on the passenger side while all the time aiming his gun at me. The one by the driver’s side said: Open the door slowly Mark! So, I slowly opened the door trying to explain that my name is not Mark. But, he immediately grabbed me and forcefully pulled me out of the car. Then he ordered me to lay face down on the ground. He put his knee on my back while the other cop hand cuffed me. They started celebrating! We got you now Mark. There is no need in you struggling. From the asphalt I protested that my name is not Mark. But, they laughed! We know your car Mark! No need trying to bullshit us. Once again I protested! Sir, my name is not Mark. It is Stonewall Towery and I am a Prison Chaplain. I explained that my County ID and drivers license were in the wallet in my back pocket. But they harshly screamed “Shut The F’ up Mark! We know who you are!” Soon five more police cars showed up and I could hear them all congratulating the two officers for catching Mark. But then one of them finally got my wallet out of my back pocket and looked at my ID’s. Then they all huddled together like they were getting ready to run a football play. I could hear them calling my true name in for a record check. I stayed on the ground 45 minutes until they finally verified that I was not this Mark guy they were looking for. They uncuffed me and told me to leave. I asked: What, I don’t even get an apology or an explanation? One cop looked at the other and said: I think Stonewall just ran that stop sign. Don’t you think? The other one said yep, I saw that! Then he proceeded to write me a ticket. Rage swells up and expands inside when it has no place to go other than inside your helpless soul. I could go on and on about all the encounters I have had with the police but I will spare you all those stories. I have a lifetimes worth. Instead I would like to talk more about rage. What is it that makes people go out and loot, burn and violently protest? In the past couple of weeks I have heard so many theories by the press and many self proclaimed experts. There are several youtube videos with people advancing the more popular opinions that blame the protestors for being so damned ignorant, angry and destructive. The question? Why do they destroy their own neighborhoods? People have such an inert need to understand and explain the actions of other people in a way that validates their own preconceived prejudices. How dare they protest the police! How dare they destroy businesses! How dare they loot, burn and attack the police! How dare they get so angry that they lose all civility and decency? It’s not much different than being the slave who said massa don’t hit me no mo’. We all know that he surely wound up hanging from the nearest tree. How dare him to protest the actions of his owner. But, why do they destroy where they live? My theory is when you have a community full of Black people that own less than 10% of the businesses in their own neighborhoods, there is no incentive to go burn, loot and destroy somewhere else. Disenfranchisement tends to lead to hopelessness and a calloused disregard for those who gain wealth from your consumerism while living high off the hog on the other side of town. That’s just my theory. I could be wrong. But I do remember that during the Watts Riots many Black business owners put up signs that said “Black Owned”. Nobody ever talks about that but I witnessed it myself. Those stores were not touched by the rioters and looters. But all the other businesses were subject to looting and being burned down. The truth is simple and easy to explain. Rage is not something that just happens over night. The kind of rage that causes people to do the things that have been done recently is the kind of rage that has festered and become a social cancer spreading throughout the down trodden neighborhoods where justice is perceived as “just us” meaning only for Whites. Even when actual proof is demonstrated by video tapes of the unjust killings by rogue cops, justice rarely sees the light of day when you are Black. The premise seems to be “You’re Black, so you’re guilty” or he was big and Black and that made him look dangerous enough to be shot. The police are White so they are always perceived as being innocent. Even when a “wanna be” cop killed an unarmed child that was walking down the street minding his own business, justice did not prevail. “Neighborhood Watch” is close enough to being a policeman so he gets a pass. No, this is not about one incident. This rage that our nation is witnessing is about a nagging constant that has been the reality for Black people for many, many years. Maybe, even centuries if you count the injustices of slavery. Several generations of Black folk have faced the racist storm being policed. Whether its the overseer on a plantation or a modern times cop on the beat. There is no difference when injustice allows a people to treat other people as less than human with no rights. But I understand what the protesters feel. I understand their distrust of a system that has blatantly been biased against them for hundreds of years. I understand what it is like to be a Black male in a nation of hate because at the age of 12 I have stared down the barrel of a shot gun knowing that any moment I could be the next mistaken killing. My rage may be in control but I understand how so many others have lost theirs. Control, that is. Rage may grow old and Grey but it will never subside until fair justice is handed out equally to all of our citizens no matter what color they may be. My rage may be older and controlled. Theirs (the rioters) is young and rampant. Hopelessness has taken its familiar place as the progress we all worked so hard to make deteriorates. Even though I know what they do is wrong because two wrongs will never equal a right. I still can’t help but wish the protests we had so many years ago would have changed things. But nothing has changed. We are still like those slaves in the field. Everywhere we go we have to have our papers (Identification) and we are still expected to explain where we are coming from and where we are going. Also, we are not supposed to talk back or resist having our civil rights violated. Resistance may surely be a death sentence. Instead of being hung from a tree, these days they just shoot you or choke you to death. Or, they may say they thought they were pulling out their taser when they shoot you in the back of the head in front of a crowd of people. They know that even if they get tried and convicted, they will probably be out of jail within a year or two. This is the progress we now have here in the land of the so called “free” No, I would never condone the violent actions caused by rage. But I do understand why some people have lost control of theirs. History has shown that people have the capacity to commit the most horrendous crimes when they are enraged. Lynchings, murders and a whole list of atrocities have been committed by Whites who were enraged because a Black man talked back or a White woman falsely accused him of rape. It was the rallying cry that almost caused the total annihilation of the Native American by White settlers. It was the justification used for putting Japanese Americans in internment camps after the attack on Pearl Harbor. It was also the reason we did not protest the dropping of nuclear bombs on Japan. Even though we killed hundreds of thousands of people, our rage about being attacked made it justifiable. The actions from rage are always acceptable when there is a White consensus that those actions were a necessary evil. This is the American social nature. A majority consensus makes it okay to lock people away on an island without ever giving them a proper trial. But you always reap what you sow. Now, the action from rage is slowly becoming acceptable among many who have been oppressed. Many are fed up and refuse to take the treatment doled out by the police in silent submission anymore. The slave mentality has lead to a revolt. Already I hear people talking about a civil war. What do they mean? Whites against Blacks? Protesters against police? WTF? However, it occurs to me that rage is never acceptable when it is in retaliation against an oppressor that is perceived by the public to be patently innocent no matter how many unarmed Black men and children get killed. As long as it doesnt happen to your people in your neighborhood its an acceptable thing. The police have a the license (a badge) to kill any Black man anytime they feel like doing it. There is no doubt in my mind that when I die, somewhere in this universe the rage that I lived with all my life will still be festering and waiting for a chance to be resurrected. How could I possibly rest in peace knowing that those who have my color are still being tormented and terrorized by the very people who are supposed to be protecting them? How could Martin Luther King possibly be resting in peace when you consider all that has continued to happen in spite of all that he did to change it? How could those slaves who were tarred, feathered and hung from trees possibly rest in peace when nothing has truly changed? Police? Overseer? What is the difference? In my brain I can’t help but hear those word’s “I Can’t Breathe, I can’t breathe” and then there was a deadly silence. The memory of that video continues to PISS ME OFF! They keep showing it on the news and I can feel the blood in my veins boil every time I see it. Also, because of the age of the cellphone with a video camera, there are now hundreds of videos of similar occurrences being posted all over cyberspace. Seeing each one of them causes my emotional temperature to rise even higher. Ironically, I now live in a neighborhood where the police pass by and wave a warm hello to me everyday when they see me walking the trails. The small town suburban police department is such a big contrast. Now I see what it is like on the other side and it makes me even angrier because I know that millions of others will never have this kind of police interaction. My rage and my anger? I guess it is my right to have them as long as I keep them silent and peaceful like a good slave. I’m Just Say’n……………………………….
Posted on: Tue, 09 Dec 2014 01:18:59 +0000
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