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A protester faces off with Minnesota State Police officers on May 29, 2020 in Minneapolis. (Photo: Kerem Yucel / AFP via Getty Images)
Every time another Black person is murdered by the police, it's easy to point to a single officer as the culprit. George Floyd was killed under the knee of officer Derek Chauvin--we saw it ourselves. But Chauvin is just one officer in a culture of police violence, and policing is just one of the systems responsible for taking Black lives. COVID-19 exposed a number of the others.
It's no coincidence that Black people, who are more likely to be killed by the police, are also dying at disproportionate rates of Covid-19. While some say it's due to the prevalence of underlying health issues like diabetes and high blood pressure in the Black community, the conversation doesn't end there, and pointing a finger at these conditions misses the bigger picture. We need to ask ourselves--how did we end up here?
The Black community is not inherently vulnerable to Covid-19. We've been made vulnerable through decades of unequal access to health care. We are made vulnerable every time a doctor or other health care provider dismisses us because they don't believe our symptoms. We are made vulnerable through over-policing, which has led to not only our murders, but to our overrepresentation in jails and prisons, where the virus is spreading rapidly and has already killed hundreds. Even though public health experts have warned of the severe risk that incarcerated people face due to the conditions they live in, most have been left to languish as Covid-19 threatens to turn their detention into a death sentence.
In fact, jails and prisons are where multiple systemic failings that take Black lives converge--over-policing, over-incarceration, inadequate health care, and the deadly result.
When we say Black Lives Matter, we're talking about more than police brutality. We're talking about incarceration, health care, housing, education, and economics--all the different components of a broader system that has created the reality we see today, where Black people are incarcerated at more than five times the rate of white people, where Black people are given harsher sentences for the same offenses, where Black people are more likely to be held on bail pretrial, and where Black people are dying not only at the hands of police, but because of an unequal health care system. Black lives should matter in all stages of life--and to honor that truth, we must radically transform the system from its roots.
Systemic problems aren't easy to fix, but we can take steps toward progress by re-examining the way we fund and rely on law enforcement in this country. A huge amount of public resources are put toward law enforcement agencies, at the expense of critical social services like education and health care. This doesn't make us safer. It puts Black lives in danger of police brutality and of getting ensnared in the mass incarceration system. More law enforcement is not the answer. It's what got us here in the first place.
Our culture of law enforcement puts the police in places they don't need to be. Police don't have to be the first responders to all crises, and they shouldn't be. Social workers, doctors, and others can serve in place of police for issues including mental health crises, domestic violence, addiction, and homelessness. However, to create this reality we need to de-prioritize law enforcement--and cutting funding is a good start. Lawmakers should divert funding for police departments and put it to better use in community-led initiatives. Investing in services like health care and education will reduce the role of police in society, protect Black lives, and shift the focus to helping people rather than harming them.
When I co-founded Black Lives Matter almost seven years ago, the conversation about police brutality was just beginning to enter the mainstream discourse--not because police violence was anything new, but because of the work of activists and advocates who brought the issue to light with the help of technology that allows us to capture incidents on our phones. Today, more people are rallying for Black Lives than I would have ever imagined. That in itself is a sign of progress. But to turn Black Lives Matter into more than a rally cry, we must roll up our sleeves and do the work. Let's tear down systems that harm us and strengthen systems that will advance true equality.
Let's make sure that Black life matters at every stage and in every facet of society, well before a cop has his knee on a man's neck.
Dear Common Dreams reader, It’s been nearly 30 years since I co-founded Common Dreams with my late wife, Lina Newhouser. We had the radical notion that journalism should serve the public good, not corporate profits. It was clear to us from the outset what it would take to build such a project. No paid advertisements. No corporate sponsors. No millionaire publisher telling us what to think or do. Many people said we wouldn't last a year, but we proved those doubters wrong. Together with a tremendous team of journalists and dedicated staff, we built an independent media outlet free from the constraints of profits and corporate control. Our mission has always been simple: To inform. To inspire. To ignite change for the common good. Building Common Dreams was not easy. Our survival was never guaranteed. When you take on the most powerful forces—Wall Street greed, fossil fuel industry destruction, Big Tech lobbyists, and uber-rich oligarchs who have spent billions upon billions rigging the economy and democracy in their favor—the only bulwark you have is supporters who believe in your work. But here’s the urgent message from me today. It's never been this bad out there. And it's never been this hard to keep us going. At the very moment Common Dreams is most needed, the threats we face are intensifying. We need your support now more than ever. We don't accept corporate advertising and never will. We don't have a paywall because we don't think people should be blocked from critical news based on their ability to pay. Everything we do is funded by the donations of readers like you. When everyone does the little they can afford, we are strong. But if that support retreats or dries up, so do we. Will you donate now to make sure Common Dreams not only survives but thrives? —Craig Brown, Co-founder |
Every time another Black person is murdered by the police, it's easy to point to a single officer as the culprit. George Floyd was killed under the knee of officer Derek Chauvin--we saw it ourselves. But Chauvin is just one officer in a culture of police violence, and policing is just one of the systems responsible for taking Black lives. COVID-19 exposed a number of the others.
It's no coincidence that Black people, who are more likely to be killed by the police, are also dying at disproportionate rates of Covid-19. While some say it's due to the prevalence of underlying health issues like diabetes and high blood pressure in the Black community, the conversation doesn't end there, and pointing a finger at these conditions misses the bigger picture. We need to ask ourselves--how did we end up here?
The Black community is not inherently vulnerable to Covid-19. We've been made vulnerable through decades of unequal access to health care. We are made vulnerable every time a doctor or other health care provider dismisses us because they don't believe our symptoms. We are made vulnerable through over-policing, which has led to not only our murders, but to our overrepresentation in jails and prisons, where the virus is spreading rapidly and has already killed hundreds. Even though public health experts have warned of the severe risk that incarcerated people face due to the conditions they live in, most have been left to languish as Covid-19 threatens to turn their detention into a death sentence.
In fact, jails and prisons are where multiple systemic failings that take Black lives converge--over-policing, over-incarceration, inadequate health care, and the deadly result.
When we say Black Lives Matter, we're talking about more than police brutality. We're talking about incarceration, health care, housing, education, and economics--all the different components of a broader system that has created the reality we see today, where Black people are incarcerated at more than five times the rate of white people, where Black people are given harsher sentences for the same offenses, where Black people are more likely to be held on bail pretrial, and where Black people are dying not only at the hands of police, but because of an unequal health care system. Black lives should matter in all stages of life--and to honor that truth, we must radically transform the system from its roots.
Systemic problems aren't easy to fix, but we can take steps toward progress by re-examining the way we fund and rely on law enforcement in this country. A huge amount of public resources are put toward law enforcement agencies, at the expense of critical social services like education and health care. This doesn't make us safer. It puts Black lives in danger of police brutality and of getting ensnared in the mass incarceration system. More law enforcement is not the answer. It's what got us here in the first place.
Our culture of law enforcement puts the police in places they don't need to be. Police don't have to be the first responders to all crises, and they shouldn't be. Social workers, doctors, and others can serve in place of police for issues including mental health crises, domestic violence, addiction, and homelessness. However, to create this reality we need to de-prioritize law enforcement--and cutting funding is a good start. Lawmakers should divert funding for police departments and put it to better use in community-led initiatives. Investing in services like health care and education will reduce the role of police in society, protect Black lives, and shift the focus to helping people rather than harming them.
When I co-founded Black Lives Matter almost seven years ago, the conversation about police brutality was just beginning to enter the mainstream discourse--not because police violence was anything new, but because of the work of activists and advocates who brought the issue to light with the help of technology that allows us to capture incidents on our phones. Today, more people are rallying for Black Lives than I would have ever imagined. That in itself is a sign of progress. But to turn Black Lives Matter into more than a rally cry, we must roll up our sleeves and do the work. Let's tear down systems that harm us and strengthen systems that will advance true equality.
Let's make sure that Black life matters at every stage and in every facet of society, well before a cop has his knee on a man's neck.
Every time another Black person is murdered by the police, it's easy to point to a single officer as the culprit. George Floyd was killed under the knee of officer Derek Chauvin--we saw it ourselves. But Chauvin is just one officer in a culture of police violence, and policing is just one of the systems responsible for taking Black lives. COVID-19 exposed a number of the others.
It's no coincidence that Black people, who are more likely to be killed by the police, are also dying at disproportionate rates of Covid-19. While some say it's due to the prevalence of underlying health issues like diabetes and high blood pressure in the Black community, the conversation doesn't end there, and pointing a finger at these conditions misses the bigger picture. We need to ask ourselves--how did we end up here?
The Black community is not inherently vulnerable to Covid-19. We've been made vulnerable through decades of unequal access to health care. We are made vulnerable every time a doctor or other health care provider dismisses us because they don't believe our symptoms. We are made vulnerable through over-policing, which has led to not only our murders, but to our overrepresentation in jails and prisons, where the virus is spreading rapidly and has already killed hundreds. Even though public health experts have warned of the severe risk that incarcerated people face due to the conditions they live in, most have been left to languish as Covid-19 threatens to turn their detention into a death sentence.
In fact, jails and prisons are where multiple systemic failings that take Black lives converge--over-policing, over-incarceration, inadequate health care, and the deadly result.
When we say Black Lives Matter, we're talking about more than police brutality. We're talking about incarceration, health care, housing, education, and economics--all the different components of a broader system that has created the reality we see today, where Black people are incarcerated at more than five times the rate of white people, where Black people are given harsher sentences for the same offenses, where Black people are more likely to be held on bail pretrial, and where Black people are dying not only at the hands of police, but because of an unequal health care system. Black lives should matter in all stages of life--and to honor that truth, we must radically transform the system from its roots.
Systemic problems aren't easy to fix, but we can take steps toward progress by re-examining the way we fund and rely on law enforcement in this country. A huge amount of public resources are put toward law enforcement agencies, at the expense of critical social services like education and health care. This doesn't make us safer. It puts Black lives in danger of police brutality and of getting ensnared in the mass incarceration system. More law enforcement is not the answer. It's what got us here in the first place.
Our culture of law enforcement puts the police in places they don't need to be. Police don't have to be the first responders to all crises, and they shouldn't be. Social workers, doctors, and others can serve in place of police for issues including mental health crises, domestic violence, addiction, and homelessness. However, to create this reality we need to de-prioritize law enforcement--and cutting funding is a good start. Lawmakers should divert funding for police departments and put it to better use in community-led initiatives. Investing in services like health care and education will reduce the role of police in society, protect Black lives, and shift the focus to helping people rather than harming them.
When I co-founded Black Lives Matter almost seven years ago, the conversation about police brutality was just beginning to enter the mainstream discourse--not because police violence was anything new, but because of the work of activists and advocates who brought the issue to light with the help of technology that allows us to capture incidents on our phones. Today, more people are rallying for Black Lives than I would have ever imagined. That in itself is a sign of progress. But to turn Black Lives Matter into more than a rally cry, we must roll up our sleeves and do the work. Let's tear down systems that harm us and strengthen systems that will advance true equality.
Let's make sure that Black life matters at every stage and in every facet of society, well before a cop has his knee on a man's neck.