Kasa Magazine: The Special Edition

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Unless you’ve been living under a rock for the past four months you would know that right now there’s outrage in America.

Let it be stated that not all black people hate the cops; it’s not that

black people hate the police at all—hate is such a strong word (Side note: this statement, now, may be debatable in my case, but that’s a story for another time.), but their actions lately towards black men is deplorable and people are angry. I am angry.

My background has taught me to respect authority in all its forms—even the most junior, But when it’s comes to the enforcers of America’s laws, although I may respect them, at present I do not like them. I especially do not trust them - white policemen, to be exact – and I doubt you’ll find many black people who do nowadays.

My reasons for distrusting white policemen (and these are based on past experiences) include the fact that people of color, in their interactions with the police, seldom receive the same respect expected of them.

It is not always that a jaywalking incident makes it on national news, but the arrest of Arizona professor Ersula Ore in June of 2014 did just that. Ore was walking in the middle of a Temple, Arizona street that evening when an officer stopped her.

In the dramatic video captured by the police dash cam, a white police can be seen slamming a black woman to the ground (amid her screams for him to “wait,” and to “stop touching [her]”) while a secondary policeman rushes into frame to aid in the arrest.

But before the physical altercation, here’s what happened off camera:

Officer: Let me see your ID, or you will be arrested for failing to provide ID.Ore: Are you serious?Officer: Yes, I am serious. That is the law. If you don’t understand the law, I’m explaining the law to you right now. You’re walking in the middle of the road which is a public thoroughfare.Ore: I have no problem abiding by the law, but all I’m asking, do you have to speak to me in such a disrespectful manner?

According to AZfamily News, the officer claimed

that Ore repeatedly refused orders and as he attempts to handcuff her, the struggle intensifies. When both parties appear on camera we see the officer slam Ore to the ground as she attempted resist the arrest. Note that the officer says to Ore, “I’m explaining the law to you right now,” attempting to relay to her that by law she has to show him an ID. It is important to know that while you do have to provide ID to a cop when asked (which Ore does in the video, telling the cop that she’s a professor at the professor at the university, which the cop blatantly ignores because he’s trying to exert his power over her), there is absolutely no law in this country requiring individuals to walk around with or have an ID card on their person at all times. A license is not an ID card. It is simply proof to a police officer, if you’re pulled over, that you’re legally allowed to drive in the U.S. While this cop says that he’s explaining the law, it seems that he himself doesn’t know the law, nor does he abide by it or enforce it properly. He is simply on a power trip. As St. Augustine said, “an unjust law is no law at all.” And that’s another thing: black people also need to know the law. When video of this altercation surfaced there were some who said that Ore should have just listened to the police officer and done what she was told, but as shown in the Plummer v. State case, 136 Ind. 306 (and I am by no means promoting violence against police officers): “Citizens may resist unlawful arrest to the point of taking an arresting officer’s life if necessary.” This premise was further upheld by the Supreme Court of the United States in the case: John Bad Elk v. U.S., 177 U.S. 529. The Court stated, “Where the officer is killed in the course of the disorder which naturally accompanies an attempted arrest that is resisted, the law looks with very different eyes upon the transaction, when the officer had the right to make the arrest, from what it does if the officer had no right…” Ore was right to resist the arrest because it was unreasonable. Athough the officer mentioned that Ore was walking I thoroughfare area, he was providing no solution, as the sidewalk was closed due to construction, like Ore informed him and there was no other option to get to where she was going.

Respect is not a one-way street, people, “Do unto others…” Police officers need to adopt empathy in application of their jobs and try to treat others as they expect to be treated. Ore simply wanted the same respect that the officer was requiring of her, and she has the right to be respected—we all do, regardless of stature or achievement—and people who defend police actions even when they’re wrong are only adding to the problem.


Police officers should be respected-absolutely-for they sacrifice a great deal to protect our lives and property, but as a public servants, they cannot infringe upon the rights of others without their consent.

In another incident which took place on September 24, 2014 in Hammond, Indiana this year, a caucasian police officer can be seen in a video smashing a car window and tase-ing the black man seated in the passenger seat while his kids watched in the back seat:

What was supposed to be a simple traffic stop turned into harassment and intimidation as other officers join the first, who threatened the passengers with their guns. The officer reported that the man refused to show identification, but as evidenced by the video, this wasn’t so: the victim tells the cops that he didn’t have a wallet on him and even dictated his identity to the police officer. The victim refused to get out of his vehicle, for “fear of [his] life”. The officer proceeds to break the window, tase the man and drag him out of the car … which brings me to my other reason for not trusting policemen: some white policemen are racist. Although they have taken an oath to serve and protect me, some white policemen, as evidenced by the video, usually have a negative, preconceived notion about African Americans when they respond to a situation.

I am a photographer and graphic designer; I love to sing and dance (I do consider myself a wonderful dancer, though others disagree), and although I am a Harry Potter geek, my favorite movie, ironically, is a little Prison film known as The Shawshank Redemption. I am a Christian, but very importantly, I am a citizen of the United States of America. When it comes to her laws, “the law is the law” and I do my best to abide by it, thanks to the Liberian/Ghanaian influence I’ve had growing up. I hardly think that the aforementioned qualities are threatening to

anyone, but too often than not, that I am black still equates dread and foreboding. The naive, indifferent and complacent say the justice system is not a racist one; that “racism doesn’t exist.” Our country is extremely divided and anyone who says otherwise is simply in denial. Just follow the now trending #CrimingWhileWhite on Twitter, Instagram and Facebook.

Some police officers seem to think they’re gods among men when they wear those tacky uniforms and badges (did I forget to mention that I’m into fashion?); gods to whom black people must submit, without question, at all times, even when they’re in the wrong. That they can do anything: spew profanity at people, be aggressive without just cause (because black people are always the villains), but the police... Sacrosanct. As a black man—as a citizen, I do not believe that this “justice system” is working for me, but against me. I cannot trust a system like that nor anyone who is a part of that system.

The backlash over recent grand jury decisions in Missouri and New York not to indict white police officers for killing two black men, shows that I am not alone in this thought. Just like many others I am angry and what good can come from prolonged anger? Protest and outcry are still going strong in Cleveland and Oregon, in New York and Missouri, in Rhode Island and in


several other states across the country. Properties are being destroyed and people are getting hurt because the voice of the people is being ingnored. As Ohio Gov. John Kasich said on ABC’s This Week, “They need to be listened to and they need to be responded to.” During a Nov. 25th Ferguson protest in Portland, Oregon, Johnny Ngugen, a 20-year-old freelance photographer captured a photo of a little black boy, tears streaming down his face, and a white police officer embracing. Within hours of posting it to his facebook page, Johnny’s picture had gone viral on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram, garnering attention from celebrities like Jamie Foxx and more than 150,000 ‘shares’ according to CNN.

12-year-old Devonte Hart was holding a sign offering “Free Hugs” when Sgt. Bret Barnum approached him and extended his hand. Devonte was hesitant at first, but according to Barnum, he broke the ice by talking about life, travel and summer vacations before asking for a hug.

“The moment I saw Sgt. Barnum and Devonte started talking to each other, with genuine smiles and this raw vulnerability, that tension melted away...” said Johnny Nguyen. “It wasn’t only me who was drawn to the scene, it was everyone around me too. There was something so human

about it. Something everyone wanted to see in situations like these, but never expects to see, so when it actually happened, the positivity stopped everyone in their tracks. So, I just stayed there, you know, camera in hand, and when they went in for the hug, I simply did what anybody else would do: capture the beauty in all the chaos, either through photography or memory.”

The photo itself is a strong representation of what people all around the country are fight for—of hope. It gives a sense of solidarity, which is what I and so many others desperately crave. It makes a future where people don’t have to worry about their lives, especially from the people who are supposed to protect us; where freedom

isn’t just a figure of speech, but a reality seem palpable.

“I really believe in my heart that this is what most people want: to find the common good in all people and find things we can agree on, not fight about,” one Facebook commenter said. “I love this picture and wish that little boy the best life has to offer.”

Indeed there is a great responsibility that comes with great power, but as demonstrated by the hug felt around the world, even though they are the root of the misbehavior and anger spreading across the country right now, police officers can also help to fix the problem. They are perfectly

poised to become the catalyst that transforms the public’s attitude towards race and social unrest into peace and growth.

As demonstrated everyday by Officer Mark Chearino of the University of Rhode Island, police officers can do this, first, by allowing love to reign even as they perform their duties. “Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.” -Martin Luther King, Jr. They need to then get to know the people in the communities they serve, “not as a police officer,” as Sgt. Barnum demonstrated, “but just a human being.” And then by working with the communities and people so that they can better protect and serve them. For just as Kasich went on to say, “In our country today, there’s too much division, too much polarization — black, white; rich, poor; Democrat, Republican. America does best when we’re united.”



Race relations have become one of the most polarized issues in 21st century America. Just when people were becoming committed to enjoying ignorance’s bliss, with ideas of a post-racial society, yet again, those implications have failed them. The painful narratives of a people undertaking hate, oppression, and institutional racism are continuing to rise above the weight of covert racism’s thumb. There are voices waiting to be heard as America’s deep rooted issues of parallels between race and injustice continue to creep out of the wood works. Many deny those issues

vehemently and cling to a privilege favoring white supremacy that undermines those narratives; while others regard it as an everyday reality that is often thought to be invalid and unnecessary exasperated opinion.

The concerted response to the latest injustices against black men in America has stirred up much strife. Outrage erupted across America following the Ferguson grand jury’s decision not to indict Officer Darren Wilson in the case of Michael Brown’s death. Public opinion was undermined and regarded as a poor examination of the facts at hand. According to Prosecutor Robert McCulloch, the grand jury’s decision not to indict Wilson was based on evidence asserting an altercation that led to Brown reaching for Wilson’s gun and charging at him. Furthermore, McCulloch cited a wrongdoing on the part of the media in addressing the issue, deeming the accounts of the happenings that did not mirror Wilson’s police report, as mere fabrications. Therefore, witnesses whose observations conveyed details of Brown with his hands up, and do not recount him charging at Wilson had no hope for a remedy.

A week later, New York City’s grand jury made a bold decision in its choice not to indict officers involved in the death of Eric Garner. A video uploaded by a young man at the scene shows Garner literally being choked to death by NYPD Officer Daniel Pantaleo and slammed on a sidewalk by other police officers in Staten Island. Just a few days before the no indictment in the Garner case, those who were outraged at the lack of injustice in the case of Brown, were compelled to reconsider their “opinions” and examine the “facts” and “evidence.” However, in a case where actual footage serves as evidence of the happenings, showing unnecessary force and the use of a banned chokehold, no indictment was chosen. Moreover, despite the city coroner’s confirmation that the death of Garner was due to compression of the neck and chest, in addition to disclosing Garner’s death as a homicide, no indictment was chosen.

It should be noted that the alleged crimes of both Brown and Garner are not condoned, but neither should they justify pardoning the actions that led to their deaths. Stealing cigarillos and selling loose cigarettes certainly do not make Brown or Garner angels, but dubbing them as thugs does not help. And on the other side, demonizing law enforcement in general does not help either, especially when there are officers who uphold their pledge to protect and serve ethically.

Objectivity was called for following both indictments yet subjectivity reigned throughout the process. It seems what is often regarded as fact, truth, and evidence-based material is often established by a dominant group of people whose agenda advances white supremacy. Since the beginnings of imperialism and colonialism, white supremacy has been commonplace and that dominance has remained pervasive in our thoughts related to what is truth.

People whose everyday experiences, narratives, and actual science that counter ideas promoting white supremacy are regarded as fabricating. There’s an extensive amount of evidence-based material that proves the injustice that blacks face every day. But yet, this truth is not spoken as truth, it is not regarded as valid, instead it is undermined and thought to be an excuse and mere opinion. Unfortunately this affirms thoughts on whom and what matters - but that “truth” is not truth at all... it’s an incredibly disgusting attitude sweeping across the nation, begging for assimilation only to advance the supremacy.

This notion does not directly provide answers and neither should it be held as a principle standard in solving issues pertaining to race relations in America, especially since there are many variables at hand. However, with simple consideration of American institutional judgment, it may be noticed how validity is overwhelmingly white. With careful regard to this truth, we can examine how this impact translates into decision making as well as demonstrates how pervasive these subconscious ideas and biases are in the American justice system. And while this may not answer many questions about being black in America, it can answer at least one question that is paramount in understanding the issues at hand, and that is: who creates the truth?



I ’ m a white person who researches white people and racism in American society, and who frequently talks with other white people about race. Lately, as the media shines its spotlight on Michael Brown, Eric Garner, Tamir Rice, John Crawford, the police who killed them, and the powerful public reaction to their deaths, I’ve been finding myself talking with more white people than ever about

our thoughts, beliefs and actions concerning black people. These terrible events and the protests which have arisen in their wake are causing more white people to talk – with one another and with people of color – about issues surrounding how police and the legal system treat black people in America.

On the surface, this feels like a positive thing. But to be honest, the more I talk, the more I find myself worrying about how much can be actually be done in the way of reshaping white thought on race in general and on black people in particular. In fairness, most white people I speak to or exchange correspondence with don’t engage in the kind of openly hateful or demeaning rhetoric we’ve all seen and heard from some of us. Nearly all, in fact, are people who seem to be speaking from a place of legitimate concern for fairness and justice.

Yet, speaking with them generally doesn’t leave me feeling hopeful for change.

The thing is, many white people I hear from think things and say thing about race and racism that sound good to them – that may sound anti-racist to them, even -- but upon closer examination just don’t make any sense.

“I don’t see color, I see people.”

“If we stop talking about racism, there wouldn’t be any racism.”

“Black people should stop worrying about being black people and start worrying about being Americans.”

“The law is neutral; it treats everyone the same.”

“I’m not a racist.”

Ok, ok -I can practically hear some of my fellow white people applying the mental brakes as they read that last one (Double take: “Wait, wait wait. Hold up a minute, David. Saying ‘I’m not racist’ isn’t wrong. Yeah, I get it about the other quotes, maybe, I mean, ok, I do see color, I admit it …but I know if I’m a racist or not. And I’m not…”).

Well, maybe not. You may feel sure. Me, I’m not so sure. I’ll admit it; I’m one of those white people who believe that in a very meaningful way, pretty much all white people are racist. Now, in fairness, most white people (and many people of color) I speak with don’t agree with me. Practically every white person I’ve ever asked believes that they are not racist – and this is in keeping with the majority opinion of white people across the country.

I’m willing to admit that saying “all white people are racist,” may be a bit of an overreach. But I ask my fellow white people: let’s question this assumption about ourselves, along with the others. Let’s consider how and what we all learn about black people, and how the things we learn impact


the things we think and do.

It’s not an overreach, I don’t believe, to suggest that most white people who have grown up in the United States have been and continue to be the recipients of a socialization which, while not always grounded in overtly racist ideology and negative stereotyping, consistently places black people in the context of painful societal problems. Even when we see specific black people valorized, the problematic social context is present. Thus, at minimum, most white people carry within our heads a multitude of hidden biases, negative stereotypes, and flawed information that collectively cements a powerful cognitive association between “black people” and “painful societal problems”.

When we consider how much of the white discourse around these painful societal problems also tends to mark black people as lacking, needing to change, needing to improve, unjustifiably angry, or simply wrong in their thinking, the idea “I am not a racist” seems less secure. White people may not hate black people for being black, but almost all of us sure do carry a lot of really negative thoughts and conceptual frameworks around blackness. When these constructs either consciously or subconsciously inform our thinking, choices, and actions, we are dealing with our own inherited racism.

It happens without our really being aware of it, through a confluence of circumstances that are largely grounded in the fact that White people still live, work, and go to school largely segregated from black people.

Research tells us that most white people in America grow up having very few meaningful relationships with black people. This is not to say most white people don’t know any black people, or relate to black people. Rather, we don’t have a great many black people with whom we are close. We usually don’t get to participate in and share ideas with black people living fully realized lives. Most of what we learn about black people is, in fact, presented to us by other white people who also have little connection with or understanding of black lives and black culture – in schools, in the media, and of course in our white communities. This disconnect practically guarantees that for white people, our education will only focus almost entirely upon viewing black people in general as “others”, as abstractions, and more specifically as aspects of or participants in bad societal problems.

In school, white people’s earliest earliest encounters with information about black life tends to occur in lessons on US history. Of course, when black people are discussed in our history books, the topic in focus is virtually always racism, Jim Crow, and the struggle for civil rights. We see black people depicted first as slaves, and later as people struggling to advance themselves in a racist society which openly, often painfully, occasionally murderously, discriminates against them. Our books may even show illustrations of slaves being sold, or shipped, like animals -- many of these images are from the historical period, of course, so the black bodies and faces in them might even be rendered to look animalistic. These history lessons create and reinforce cognitive associations in our brains (which build knowledge by creating and storing concepts in relationship to one another) -- matching the construct “black people” first with concepts like filth, nakedness, degradation, and sub-human status, then later with fire hoses and police dogs, riots and ongoing threats of violence. The focus in our lessons is always on the problematic condition of blackness (By contrast, white people depicted in our history books are never discussed as “white” people, excepts when the lesson is about problems with racialized “others”, such as African slaves,


indigenous tribes, or Mexicans. White people may have colonized the Americas at the expense of the people who live there, and brought, bought and sold African people into bondage, but whiteness is not regarded as a problematic condition. In fact, it’s rarely specifically mentioned at all. Whites don’t tend to have cognitive associations between “white” and “Bad societal problems”).

Of course, black people still tend not to feature greatly in our school history books. Most of the information white people receive about black people come from various media. White people’s glimpses of black life as presented in the media (e.g. TV, music, movies, the internet) tend to focus overwhelmingly on bad societal problems. We see and hear about black people shooting and being shot. We watch black people being arrested (often on TV shows exclusively dedicated to showing poor people getting arrested). We hear about gang wars, people selling drugs, people using drugs, men beating families, men leaving their families, girls becoming pregnant too early. We hear and read about poor school performance, dropouts, poor college graduation rates, underrepresentation, underprivilege, underpreparedness. We see numbers on racial profiling, crime rates, incarceration rates, and homicide rates. We hear debates on welfare and race, poverty and race, unemployment and race, immigration and race. Even if the lessons we are presented with (via a largely white-led media) are talking about these issues in an even handed way (e.g. not stereotyping, not victim-blaming) our brains create and reinforce media-driven cognitive associations between black people and terrible, hard, dangerous, problematic lives.

Knowingly or unknowingly, our white families, friends and communities participate in this negative educational process with us. Nearly all white people, of course, would individually claim that they are not racist. As white people themselves know, however, many will do racist things: they’ll tell racist jokes (or tolerate hearing them, anyway). They will mimic blackness, talking the way they think black people talk, listening (and taking cues about black life from) to the music they think black people listen to. And yes, from time to time they will come right out and say things like “I’m not racist, but…” as a set up for an observation that is clearly racist.

In fairness, not all white people do these things, of course. In my experience, however, few do the opposite, either. Few actively challenge racial stereotypes. Most white people who don’t do these things often simply remain silent about race. They don’t talk about black people specifically or race in general, and when asked, often don’t seem to want to try or don’t feel as if they don’t know how.

Consequently, as white people living largely among white people, we may find that we don’t have many conversations which can critically challenge what we learn in school or in media or from one another about black people. Without this kind of critical reflection, we develop largely unchallenged assumptions about people and things, and these assumptions coalesce into an ideology – a collection of beliefs about racial matters which informs how we think and what we do.

It is true of course that not all media depictions of black people are negative, Still, even the most positive depictions of black people that we encounter in our lifelong socialization (and it is a real challenge to name a black person about whom our white education has been nothing but positive) frequently fall into two categories which acknowledge their positive stature in contrast to negative associations about black life. They are depictions either of people being courageous and heroic in the face of the misery, suffering and oppression that is so much a part of the American black experience (such as Martin Luther King, Jr.), or of people celebrated for being representative


of the “American Dream” of rising to wealth by virtue of hard work and God-given ability (such as Lebron James or Oprah Winfrey). These latter individuals, of course, are often framed in the media not as rare exceptions, but rather as examples of how the system works fine for black people, if only they would use it right.

So, let’s take another look: White people may tend to think “I’m not racist”. But if you are white, and you grew up learning about black people in America, you have likely: a.) learned largely in isolation from black people and black communities, with very little authentic insight into what the lives of some black people, families, and communities are like; and b.) been provided an education about black people that focuses almost entirely on really bad, really scary, really dangerous things – things which, in our brains, are cognitively associated with their blackness.

By contrast, it’s likely that neither of these assertions are true of your education about white people. You no doubt have close relationships with many different kinds white people. You’ve lived in white neighborhoods and been part of various white communities. Whiteness is so much a part of your experience that when you think about what is good or bad about white people you know or see in the media, you probably don’t even think about those things in relation to their racial identity. They aren’t white people, in other words – they’re just “people”.

Not so, though, for most of us with learning about the lives of black people. We learn about black people outside of lifelong, meaningful interaction with black people. Much of what we learn focuses on really negative things -- things that are directly associated with blackness.

Finally, I think most white people have little opportunity (perhaps I should say “create little opportunity for themselves and one another”) to carefully process what all of this education means to their thinking. What does it mean to a white people’s conscious and subconscious thought processes that practically every time they encounter something meaningful about black people, it has something fearful, or painful, or infuriating, or humiliating, or even dehumanizing about it? What does it mean to have never truly had a “counter-education” – one which would help find a more balanced, more complex perspective? What does it mean when other white people at school or work or in the community don’t even want to talk about race – when they say things like “talking about racism causes more racism”, or “they’re just trying to make me feel guilty,” or “racism is over, people should get over it,” or “I don’t see color”?

In my opinion, for most of us white people it means this: we who are white are socialized to be biased against black people, whether we like it or not. We grow up to associate “black” with a lot of deeply, painfully problematic stuff. Fearful stuff. Threatening stuff. And, when we lack opportunities to counter this negative education with positive experiences, critically reflective opportunities, and lessons about black lives from people who live them, our conscious and subconscious thinking becomes informed by the negativity. We feel the threat. We harbor the fear. In turn, this fear and negativity shape our thinking. Our fearful, negative thinking, at whatever level it occurs, impacts our decisions and our actions.

Most white people don’t want to be racists. But if racist thought is something we have been socialized to carry around in our heads, it might make more sense for white people seeking to genuinely confront racism to take the critical position that “racist” is by default what we are, rather than what we are not. Opening up to the possibility that we, too, have somehow been bamboozled is a hard thing to do – but it’s a good place to start.




E ric Garner’s chokehold death in Staten Island, New York was just another case where police officers were allegedly “just doing their jobs.” As practically every officer will tell you, they “enforce the laws, not interpret them.”

Regarding the Eric Garner case, the man was resisting arrest. He was obese and was held in a chokehold by a

police officer. Multiple officers got him quickly on the ground. The whole incident was caught on camera by a bystander. Garner was repeatedly heard saying, “I can’t breathe,” before police finally realized he needed medical assistance. His neck was no longer encumbered and Garner appeared to not be moving.

The outcome of this case? The police officer was eventually not indicted in Garner’s death, but it’s rare that any officer is anyway.

Personally, I was conflicted with the Ferguson case but with this Staten Island one, it was all on camera. Factually, most people could argue better for Garner’s case than for Michael Brown’s. After all of these things, can you truly blame why many people are so enraged and distrusting of police and the American justice system? These things have been happening for a very long time in this country, but why has it taken so long for this issue to surface and taken more seriously in national and worldwide media?

Now, mind you, I have the utmost respect for authorities and I understand that police brutality is not always a race issue. However, there comes a point in our lives where we must take notice of incidents--not just with the police, of course--when things just don’t seem right (morally and/or legally), when it’s clear that it’s more than just a minor traffic stop, or when a black friend is closely followed around the store by employees instead of you (a non-black person).

I write from experience.

My best friend is an African-American male and he is most definitely the farthest thing from a thug or troublemaker. He is a huge Harry Potter geek, self-proclaimed “head of the Beyhive” (for the Beyoncé-impaired, that is the Beyoncé fanbase), loves art and fashion, and a devout Christian. For the life of me, I couldn’t understand why he was targeted at a clothes shop down in Newport, Rhode Island.

We went to visit the very picturesque shopping and tourist area with some friends, and he was the only black person in our group. The clerk didn’t really bother to watch me and the others that were present in the shop but was vigilant of my black friend who ultimately felt so uncomfortable that he walked out of there so quickly. I followed him to ask why he’s standing out there but of course, I knew the reason why because I witnessed it from the beginning. Furthermore, before he left the shop, another friend had joined us who happens to also be black. He was in the shop with us. Within a minute of being in there, a random older White woman in the shop approached our group and said, “Don’t trust him.” I was shocked! This woman doesn’t even know who we were nor our friend and dared to speak such things.


At that moment, I didn’t know what to think of it but today, I am angry and disgusted. With everything that’s been going on, we haven’t felt the magnitude of this racial profiling issue in addition to various cases of police brutality. I’m not a black person in America, so my reality is different but I’m not going to stand by and not do something. By the way, this is not to say that people of other races or ethnic backgrounds don’t go through similar situations. I’m sure they do but the incidences of black males in America being profiled and brutalized by police are undoubtedly much higher. Yes, there are black police officers too among other groups, but I can assure you that they’d still be beating a black man because the justice system that they work for has been firmly fixated to be wary of black males. Let that sink in for a moment.

I would also like to mention that I, by no means, excuse people (of any race) for their criminal acts. Those who get into trouble with the law shall face it and take full responsibility of what they’ve done.

There is another side I feel that should be discussed and it’s as important but it would sound “racist” coming from a non-black person. I’m talking about encouraging black males to do more good and be better representatives of their community--and to dispel that hip hop thuggish image. There may be stereotypes out there but things can change. Those who read this article may be thinking, ‘What does she know anyway? She ain’t black!’ And they’re right. I’m not. It’s not my place to speak deeply about the community, but I would like to say this because I can speak similarly about Southeast Asian youths in America, particularly Cambodian boys and men: Jesus once said, ‘forgive them for they know not what they do.’ They know not what they do because they know not who they are. Know who you are and then, do something about it. The system is working against you and waiting to see when you mess up, so they can catch you and say, ‘See! They’re all like that!’ Rise above that stereotype, and show them that you are more than what they think.

My concern is the injustice many people of color have faced and will still have to face in America. Just because you don’t see it or despite how much good you believe the Civil Rights movement has done for citizens, doesn’t mean that these issues are somehow nonexistent today or trivial.

Why has police conduct for restraining and arresting citizens become such an area to be concerned about in America? It’s mainly due to the incidents of brutality and death of black males that have become a common denominator in various cases. There seems to be heavier use of force and severity in “taking down” black males compared to their white counterparts. For any of us to deny this “way of doing things” by the police is really us trying to trivialize the issue.

Now, tying in one of my experiences with what’s been happening around the country for years sums up this concept that blacks do get treated differently, and guess what? Me being non-black should help signify that the problem is not just in the black man’s head! It is a real issue in America. One does get targeted for their skin color, whether it’s just walking around the clothes store or driving around in a decent neighborhood mainly made up of white people. For people to deny it or turn their heads away is doing greater injustice to society. How are you helping your fellow man by playing stupid? Some people are still living in Candy Land and need to move out into the real world.

As much as I would like to believe that we all are treated the same way as white folks, I can’t brush off or deny my experiences and the experiences of so many others living a much different reality than whites. When you think something is not a problem just because it’s not your problem personally doesn’t mean it isn’t a real problem to the rest. Swallow that.



“Born to Rule” and “Destined to Lead” reads some of the captions on promotional material for the newly released Exodus: Gods and Kings in which actor Christian (Oh, the irony) Bale assumes the character of Moses and Joel Edgerton, his rival Rame-ses. This also seems to be the theorem of white Hollywood.

Whenever something is so obviously black, African or goes against white theories about history, they try to find a way to twist and attribute it to outside European influ-ence. White Hollywood is still trying to per-

suade the world that the only thing black people are borne of is slavery--they’re trying to hammer it into our heads. God forbid!

So, Christian Bale is basically trying to blame audiences for the recent whitewash-ing of what are supposed to be minor-ity characters. Yes, I’m talking about the newly released Exodus: Gods and Kings. Bale acknowledges the whitewashing when he says the time will come when another film about Moses will be cast with a North African or Middle Eastern actor, but is


also quoted saying, “I don’t think fingers should be pointed, but we should all look at ourselves and say, ‘Are we supporting wonderful actors in films by North African and Middle Eastern filmmakers and actors, because there are some fantastic actors out there.” The nerve!

My question to him and Hollywood would be: how available does Hollywood make these movies to audiences? No, don’t blame the audience. The real perpetrator here is Hollywood: it is a white industry that doesn’t believe in the earning poten-tial of actors who aren’t white, as evidenced by this statement Ridley made while de-fending the film:

“I can’t mount a film of this budget [$130 million, plus about $70 million in tax rebates], and say that my lead actor is Mohammad so-and-so from such-and-such,” he told Variety. “I’m just not going to get it financed. So the question doesn’t even come up.”

Indeed, there are fantastic [minority] ac-tors out there and their talents would be known were Hollywood not stifling them with stunts like what’s taking place in this new film. People do support movies (and shows) in which minority actors –I’m sorry, Black actors and People of Color—assume leading roles, as evidenced by the 2008

“Slumdog Millionaire” which made a box office total of $377.9 million, The Last King of Scotland, 12 Years A Slave, The Help, Lee Daniel’s The Butler, television’s Scandal and How To Get Away With Murder ... Need I continue? Black faces fill movie theaters, but they are hardly duplicated on the big and silver screens. Studies (like the one conducted by The Washington Post) do show that white people do not watch Black movies, though.

I know it’s the movies, and you know, it’s all make-believe, but try to steer as close

to the truth/reality as possible, man. Instead of casting white actors who must struggle with, like, a Native Amer-ican accent (yes, I’m talking about Johnny Depp in The Lone Ranger), just CAST A NATIVE AMERICAN!

The disease of white supremacy is also a plague and some people are determined to let it fester (*cough cough,* Ridley Scott). The only way to actualize a cure or remedy is for those responsible to ACKNOWLEDGE IT, stop trying to advance it, and work on dismantling it. In the words of Christian Bale, “To me that would be a day of cel-ebration.”

I’m not saying do not go and see the movie but if you do, don’t walk in a fool only to walk out a bigger fool.


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Kasa Magazine: The Special Edition