A few weeks ago outside the window of my office on Monument Circle, I noticed a few dozen protesters demonstrating about the death of Tamir Rice, the 12-year-old boy from Cleveland who was shot by police after pointing a toy gun at an officer. A grand jury did not return an indictment against the officer and, as expected, outrage ensued. There were numerous protests around the country, and Indianapolis was no exception.
I went downstairs to observe the protestors and heard the usual chants of “no peace, no justice” and a speaker complaining about LeBron James not sitting out a game or two in Cleveland to show solidarity with the protestors. I am forgiving of that speaker who probably failed to realize LeBron James is under contract, and if he breaches his agreement, he doesn’t get paid. Of course, it’s easy to tell other people what they should do with their money when you have no skin in the game, but I digress.
As I watched the protestors chant and go around the Circle, I had to again ask myself a question I’ve found myself asking since the beginning of the Black Lives Matter movement: Where were these people when Black folks were getting gunned down in Indianapolis? In 2015, one of the deadliest years for murders on record in Indy, there were 144 criminal homicides. And out of those 144, Blacks were about 77 percent of the victims, even though they are only about 27 percent of the city’s population.
Where were these Black Lives Matter protestors when 56 Blacks were murdered by other Blacks? And those are just the instances where IMPD could identify the ethnicity of the suspect; there were 53 instances where Blacks were the victims, but the race of the assailant was unknown. Did I miss something? Where were the Black Lives Matter protestors when Coriana Johnson and Makayla Mitchell were murdered on Oct. 4 on the 2000 block or Berwick Avenue? Did I miss the Black Lives Matter memo that called for the killers of 10-year-old Deshaun Johnson to be brought to justice? In case you forgot, Deshaun was gunned down while at a memorial service on Graceland Avenue back in September. I could go on, but I think you get the point.
It’s easy to get worked up over police-related shootings, but it’s a more difficult conversation when it comes to talking about your own dirty laundry. And let’s be honest — in the Black community, there is a lot of dirty laundry running around out there that no one wants to discuss. I will still never forget a few years ago when a few hundred folks showed up in hoodies to protest the shooting death of Trayvon Martin, but there were no protests and marches for the young Black men who had been killed by other young Black men.
Now, I am sure at some point in this narrative a bunch of you have either fallen out of your chairs or perhaps thrown your tablet or mobile device against the wall out of anger over what I wrote. Or perhaps you can’t believe The Recorder actually printed this, and you’re calling me a lot of names right now. Well, I don’t worry about that, because when it comes to this topic, I’ve been called a lot of things, but one thing you can’t call me is wrong, because in your heart, you know I’m right. You know damn well if Black lives mattered, they would matter whether the life was taken by someone who was Black or if someone was wearing blue. But I guess that’s what makes hypocrisy so easy; it doesn’t require any consistency, honesty or intellectual integrity. Must be nice.
Abdul-Hakim Shabazz is an attorney and political commentator. You can express your outrage to him at abdul@indypolitics.org.
