Over the past week, our nation, along with the rest of the world, has watched with horror the shocking, heinous killing of an unarmed Black man unfolding in front of our eyes on the video that captured it all. Before the devastating loss of George Floyd, there was that of another Black American, Ahmaud Arbery, who was fatally shot while jogging in February in what has been compared to present-day lynching, now being investigated as a hate crime. And then there was Breonna Taylor, a 26-year-old emergency medical worker who was shot and killed on March 13 after the police raided her home while serving a no-knock warrant. There are countless other people whose lives were tragically taken. And how many more were never captured on phone or camera? How many loved ones have been left behind to suffer unspeakable grief and loss? How many Black communities have been left traumatized and heartbroken in the wake of these tragedies and crimes?
Racism and white privilege have a well-established, all-too-familiar place in our nations history. That history spans over 400 years during which people of color have been subjected to physical, psychological, and sexual violence and various forms of segregation, prejudice, and discrimination. Racism is both overt and covert (Castle, Wendel, Kerr, Broms, & Rollins, 2019), which is to say both visible and microaggressive, which only serves to promote its ubiquity and pervasiveness. Although individual racism might at times be more discernable to some, institutional racism has been shown to thrive within well-known and well-respected norms and practices of our social and political institutions, and is frequently more shielded and protected against widespread condemnation than individual racism (Ture & Hamilton, 1968).
Both overt and covert forms of racism permeate the acts of police brutality that took the life of George Floyd and many others. Police violence against members of racial and ethnic marginalized groups can range from witnessing police violence against another person, to being a target of various racial microaggressions, to threat of violence, actual physical violence, and frequently, murder (Helms, Nicolas, & Green, 2010). Police brutality and other forms of racism have extremely deleterious effects on physical and mental health of individuals and whole communities. Racism has been recognized as a social determinant of health, and disparities that negatively affect our communities of color have been reported as contributing causes to many illnesses and diseases, both mental and physical. A disproportionate burden of illness among racial and ethnic marginalized groups that have been affected by COVID-19 is a recent example of just how deadly racial inequities can be (Anyane-Yeboa, Sato, & Sakuraba, 2020; Baptiste et al., 2020).
As we pause at this painful juncture in time, we are reminded of Judith Hermans (1997) seminal work on trauma and recovery, in which she posits it is far more comfortable to align ourselves with the perpetrator of trauma, because the only thing perpetrators ask for is silence. Silence means complicity by passive non-doing, but to support victims requires us to speak up and uphold their voices, to validate, and to take action that would bring forth safety and recovery. At this moment in which our world is reeling from the heartbreaking losses of our fellow Black Americans, may we find courage to bear unflinching witness to the pain of racial violence and trauma that has so deeply affected countless individuals, families, and communities. Equally importantly, may these tragedies also lead to an unwavering commitment for all of us to work together toward a better world.
We, the Board of Trustees and leaders of an institution of helpers, hope to reaffirm as your state association that we are committed to speak out for social justice and against inequity. We are committed to action and accountability as demonstrated through our ongoing endeavors to deepen our understanding of diversity, as well as encourage community discussions focused on race and inequity. It is our hope and intention that with the collective resources we have as psychologists and input from our community, we can make measurable progress towards building awareness and united action around issues of race and social justice. In the words of the Black activist and author Adrienne Maree Brown, Things are not getting worse, they are getting uncovered. We must hold each other tight and continue to pull back the veil.
Anyane-Yeboa, A., Sato, T., & Sakuraba, A. (2020). Racial disparities in covid-19 deaths reveal harsh truths about structural inequality in America. Journal of Internal Medicine, 2020, May 25.
Baptiste, D. L., CommodoreMensah, Y., Alexander, K. A., Jacques, K., Wilson, P. R., Akomah, J., Sharps, P, & Cooper, L. A. (2020). Covid19: shedding light on racial and health inequities in the United States. Journal of Clinical Nursing, 2020, May 29.
Castle, B., Wendel, M., Kerr, J., Brooms, D., & Rollins, A. (2018). Public healths approach to systemic racism: a systematic literature review. Journal of Racial and Ethnic Health Disparities, 6, 27-36.
Helms, J.E., Nicolas, G., Green, C.E. (2010). Racism and ethnoviolence as trauma: Enhancing professional training. Traumatology, 16(4), 53-62.
Herman, J. (1997). Trauma and recovery: The aftermath of violence from domestic abuse to political terror. New York: Basic Books.
Ture, K. & Hamilton, C.V. (1968). Black power: the politics of liberation. New York, NY: Vintage Books.