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"What has evolved over the last few years
is the creation of these exclusive
clubs—formations of families who have lost
children, mainly to police terrorism."
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“If you want to hear the truth, you must let the suffering speak.”
This was the quote by Cornel West that Cephus Johnson led off with at
the “Testimonies of Love, Loss and Legacy” last weekend. Cephus,
affectionately known as Uncle Bobby, is the uncle of Oscar Grant who
was murdered by an Oakland transit cop in 2009. I met him and wife
Beatrice in Oakland at my book signing event for “Ferguson is America.”
During his potent testimony, Johnson went on to say that it is the
responsibility of the living to seek justice for the dead because they
can no longer speak for themselves. He sees the mission of their family
foundations is to seek justice for those who have been wrongfully
murdered.
Johnson was in St. Louis to represent one of those foundations, Love
not Blood, at a special event sponsored by Eden Social Justice Council
and The Michael Brown Chosen for Change Foundation. The event featured
a panel of fathers from around the country who have lost their children
to violence. It was part of a weekend that included a retreat for the
grieving fathers. Some spoke of enduring recent birthdays of their
child and smacked with the reality that there would be no more
birthdays.
The testimonies were riveting and emotional. They were especially
powerful coming from black men who often get characterized by the
mainstream media as absent or indifferent towards their children. The
fathers got a few minutes at the program to humanize their loved one.
The Oscar Grant story was made into a movie. “Fruitvale Station” built
his life of struggle around his senseless murder by BART cop Johannes
Mehserle. Mehserle shot Grant in the back and he laid hand-cuffed and
unarmed on the station platform. As Uncle Bobby told us, Oscar had 600
pounds of police on his 150-lb frame. The world had already born
witness to the shooting via video but we didn’t know Grant. The
well-written script and the phenomenal acting of Michael B. Jordan drew
the viewing audience into smack into Grant’s life. I know I felt like I
personally new Oscar after I saw the movie (twice). And not only did I
know Oscar, I know many Oscar-types who are potential victims of police
or community violence.
What the testimonies of these fathers did in the chapel of Eden
Theological Seminary was to do just that—to project the lives of real
children and their unspeakable loss as a parent. Black families can
feel pain too.
Listening to the testimonies, I couldn’t help but think back to the
murder of Mike Brown Jr. Mike was instantly dehumanized by the
mainstream media resulting in a flood of online racist, hurtful
comments—Mike was a big, black, scary thug. Like other victims, Mike
had family and friends, he had fears and dreams. He was a kid, he was
human.
What has evolved over the last few years is the creation of these
exclusive clubs—formations of families who have lost children, mainly
to police terrorism. Just a week ago, Love not Blood had sponsored a
similar event for mothers. The Circle of Mothers told their stories and
gave one another the support needed to channel their grief into the
fight for justice.
Uncle Bobby called me from the St. Louis airport before he left to
return home. He reported that it was a spectacular weekend. The fathers
had bonded; he felt renewed and ready for the next battle.
This is an exclusive club that most of us don’t want membership in.
What is inspiring to me is these families are not wallowing in
self-pity and despair. They are now drum majors for justice and part of
the growing Black Lives Matter movement.
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 is published every Thursday |
Executive Editor:
David A. Love, JD |
Managing Editor:
Nancy Littlefield, MBA |
Publisher:
Peter Gamble |
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