It is rare that I don’t know what to say. It is often I say the wrong thing, but it is rare that I have nothing to say at all. But there has been a lot of silence in my house, on my blog, in my social media streams. For everything I have been saying, I haven’t been saying much. At least not about George Zimmerman and the not-guilty verdict handed down late Saturday night. I haven’t been able to find the words. I am not sure they are mine to have.
What I have been doing is a lot of reading, a lot of listening, and more re-tweeting than usual. I am listening, especially to those whose stories are different from mine. I am listening so that I will better understand. To me, it could have been just a verdict in some media-frenzy court case. It could have, but it is so much more to people who I love. They are speaking up and out, about the things they have faced in this country, the ways they are regularly treated. They are speaking of the fear that is laced through their hearts, that squeezes every time their sons walk out the door. I am so grateful to these friends, internet and otherwise, who trust me with their stories.
Maybe you think everyone is over-reacting. Maybe you want to point out the differences in legality of not-guilty and innocent. Maybe you just want everyone to move on already. Maybe it is time to weep with those who weep, to mourn with those who mourn.
I don’t know what the answers are. I don’t know that I am called to answers. I do know that I am called to mourn. To sit and listen, to better understand the wailing. To move my posture to a place where I identify with those who mourn. These stories, they are changing me. I am listening. I am weeping with you.