Author’s note: This is a personal essay that I decided to publish on my website. After more than a week of thinking about this topic, I felt compelled to put pen to paper. As a writer, organizing my thoughts tends to be helpful. But I still have not answered the question that follows.
I can’t decide whether to watch the video.
The country is erupting in protest over the killing of George Floyd by a Minneapolis police officer and I haven’t watched the video. I know how upsetting it will be and I won’t be able to unsee it. Five years ago I watched the Walter Scott video, watched the South Carolina man struggle then run away only to be shot at eight times in the back. I watched a man die and it haunted me.
I don’t want to do that again. But is this a luxury I need to ignore? Is this white guilt? This conflict over not wanting to watch something but feeling obligated to anyway?
This is, after all, what’s capturing the nation. And then I think about all the other protests. I think about the fact that it was five whole years ago that I watched that Walter Scott video and regretted it. Michael Brown was six years ago. Phillip Pannel, who was shot and killed while running from police in a New Jersey suburb, was 20 years ago. An A-One New York Times article in 1991, describes the community one year after the shooting in Teaneck and the tale of civil unrest, a need for racial healing and attempts to diversify a local police force is one that is depressingly identical to the stories printed today.
I can picture it; I’ve seen the still images of Mr. Floyd, of the officer’s knee crushing his neck while he lies on the ground. I can imagine the long minutes going by, of him struggling to say, “I can’t breathe.” Then I see the picture of his young daughter, standing next to her mother. Is it no wonder that black women are -- by far -- the largest single-parent category when we are killing their partners and fathers either outright, or by incarcerating them?
But picturing what happens and seeing it are different. As a journalist, I feel as if it’s my duty to watch even though my subject area doesn’t require me to. As a white mother, I feel guilt pushing me. “You don’t have to worry about this happening to your son,” it says, “and so you need to see what other mothers worry about every day.”
As a citizen, I feel compelled, that it’s my civic duty to watch. But as a human being, who feels deeply, I am torn between obligation and not wanting to expose my mind to that darkness.
But I have that choice, don’t I?