An Open Letter to Black People
An Open Letter to Black People
April 21, 2020
Dear Black People,
I love you; I do. From the deepest part of myself, I adore you. We are One in this fight against COVID-19. As I follow the coverage of the corona virus across the country, the numbers in the Black community are staggering. We’re 50–70 percent of the people dying. The sheer number of African-American fatalities makes my heart hurt. The numbers hover over my head all day. These numbers are real. They represent me. They represent you. They represent the people we love.
We’re trending, and everybody’s weighing in on the health disparities in the Black community which put us at greater risk of serious complications or even death if we contract the virus. But instead of addressing why so many of us are becoming sick and dying, the focus has taken a paternalistic turn with folks telling us what to do as if following the guideline alone will stop the spread. Who’s telling the people of Michigan, Ohio, Kentucky, Minnesota, North Carolina and Utah to stay at home? Where are the PSAs and celebrity call-outs telling the people in those states to shelter in place?
I understand what’s at stake, and as frightening as it is, is why we have to stay focused. Do we have a personal responsibility to adhere to the protocols that have been put in place for our safety and well being? Absolutely! And yet, it is also time to explore and respond to the why behind the disparities. Why are Black people more vulnerable to the corona virus? Could it be. . . Because we are essential workers. Because we don’t have paid days off so we can’t stay home when we’re sick. Because we are underemployed. Because we don’t have health insurance. Because we live in cramped spaces. Because we live in areas without grocery stores. Because the rates of diabetes hypertension, asthma and cardiovascular disease are high in our communities.
I’m worried about us. So I composed this letter to you. To us. From one Black person to another. Take from it what you need. Share it. If one person is moved in any way by what is written here, then I have done what I set out to do. If I reach one, they can also reach one other person. Each one, teach one. That’s how we change the world. We are beautiful, tenacious, resilient people. Never forget that even in the face of this pandemic. It is my hope and prayer that we come out on the other side of this crisis stronger than before. We descend from fighters. What else can you call those who came before us?
The list of injustices and inequalities is long and it didn’t begin with COVID-19. We’ve been fighting against long odds since we got here. Our enslaved ancestors were chained together in the bottom of slave ships. The virus of the day was dysentery aboard the ships that killed captives and forced others to be thrown overboard. We were put on auction blocks and sold away from our families. We survived the Black Codes and Jim Crow. We lived through the brutality of the Civil Rights Movement. We still face discrimination and unfair treatment daily. And yet we’re still here. The fact that we continue to show up in the face of adversity is testament to who we are. It is a testament to our DNA. To the blood that courses through our veins. As Nana Peazant told us in Daughters of the Dust, “We are the descendants of those who chose to survive.” At every turn in our history, we chose life.
And we must continue to choose life. We have stories to tell. We have to bear witness to this crisis as did our ancestors. We must remember on whose shoulders we stand. Who made a way out of no way for us to be here today. I stand on the shoulders of my parents who left the south during the Great Migration and came north in search of something better. I stand on the shoulders of my grandparents, great parents and all who came before them. I stand on the shoulders of those who took a leap of faith and didn’t know where they might land.Though they didn’t know what the future held, it didn’t stop them from being visionaries. They didn’t quit. And neither can we.
People poured into us. Gave us what we needed. And we have a responsibility to stand strong in the face of the enemy before us. The one that we see, and the one that we don’t see. We can not fall for the lies being fed to us. This is not about following protocols. We know that our plight is firmly rooted in the racism that makes America the superpower that it is. It’s our blood, our sweat and our tears that soak the soil. It is our broken bodies buried on this land. We cannot wait for elected officials. Just because the government says that the country should open up doesn’t mean that we should abandon the practices. We must ensure our own safety because capitalist greed won’t. Black labor matters more than Black lives.
When the country returns to some degree of normalcy, and develops amnesia about the health disparities, we will still be fighting. We have sacrificed health to create wealth in this country. It’s time for us to show America that Black lives matter more than Black labor. Stay safe.
Yours in love and power,
Stephanie