A Letter to Pastor Ken

by Woodie Grayson

 When I first heard about the Ahmaud Arbery murder, I immediately wanted to see the video. Not because I wanted to see something macabre, but just to see for myself what happened. All to often, when these things happen you start to hear the negative of what the victim did to deserve death. (Travon Martin comes to mind, like here we go again) Then to hear that the case was months old and there hadn’t been any arrest, I was infuriated! Then we get Breonna Taylor, killed in her own home… and again I want to see video. Because I want to prove to the world that these unnecessary executions are taking place. So, by the time George Floyd was murdered, I was numb…. It was more of the same. Watching that video was devastating. Even though it confirmed what I had already know was taking place in this country, I was certain that his character would come under attack. It doesn’t matter to some. Sitting at home, standing on the street, going for a jog, my life doesn’t mean anything to some who are supposed to protect it. If it happened to me, what negatives would they dig deep to justify MY death? No one is perfect, but that seems like the requirement most times. That requirement doesn’t necessarily guarantee my success in the world, but just allows me to keep breathing. It’s a heavy burden…

To hear my sons, ask the questions of why, and state that this is so stupid is heartbreaking. I teach my young men to treat everyone the same. “There are good and bad people in evert size, shape, and color”. But when they must deal with “how come people hate me because of the way I was born”? It’s hard for a dad to walk them through that without teaching hate. I want to raise strong Christian men, who feel like they can be anything that they want to be in this world. I’ve always told them that as black boys they must be better than others just to have a fair chance at success. Now I have to add that it is possible, as long as they can stay alive long enough to make their dreams come true. I have to continue to teach them the do’s and don’ts of being black in America. I didn’t want to have to teach them these same survival techniques that were taught to me, but I don’t have a choice.

My hope was that they would live in a world where their race didn’t matter regarding life and death. But they will always live in a world where we are less in the eyes of some. They are going to have to navigate that, and I will have to teach them how. My hope is that they will put their faith in God and find strength in him. It’s not going to be easy, because that’s the world that we live in. I pray for them and all the young black and brown boys in this country. I pray that they find the strength to continue to love themselves. I pray that they never have to set aside their anger or displeasure just to stay alive. I pray that they never find themselves in situations where they can’t control the outcome of living or dying. I pray that God gives me the strength and wisdom to keep my own anger and hurt in check.

I am proud of the people that are out protesting and demanding change. I pray for their safety and ask God to guide their decisions. I understand their anger and hurt. I am encouraged to see the many cultures that are doing this together. I pray for us to be better. But I know the history of this country when it comes to equality. It’s usually governmental half measures, and cultural stubbornness that wins the day.