A Letter to George Floyd, Two Years On
Two years on, we will not forget you, George.
You no longer breathe, but your spirit lives on. Like many that have gone before you and after you, your spirit continues to haunt Amerikkka, as the militarized state that values police over the lives of Black people, values the second amendment over the lives of teachers and children, values a permanent war economy over the well being of nations that it claims to protect or be allies with.
George, your life mattered.
Your death sparked some of the largest protests in US history in over 2000 cities and over 60 countries with estimates of between 14 and 24 million people marching in your name. In cities across the world, millions of people marched for Black lives. We spend the sweltering summer days of the COVID pandemic on the streets shouting, “I can’t breathe” and “Black lives matter!” occupying streets, fighting with the police, all in your name, all in the name of those that you symbolize; Trayvon, Breonna, Tamir, Amadou, Osaze and so many more. Statues were felled, memorials were created and all the world stood still to think about being Black in Amerikkka.
Your death mattered.
The world awakened to the call for Black life and anti-Black racism, ending police brutality, defunding and abolishing the police, and ending the prison industrial complex. Millions of dollars were spent by corporations and cities to signify solidarity with the movement. Millions of dollars were donated to large Black organizations for bail and other needs. Participating in #BlackLivesMatter was a trend that everyone was part of. Books about Black lives and white fragility flew off the bookshelves and were backordered on Amazon, people wanted to learn, read, or at least pretend to be reading and learning. It was a time of pause and reflection. But two years later, the silence is deafening.
Universities and institutions of higher learning scrambled to meet with Black faculty and leaders and to create anti-Black racism plans which had been hard fought for decades with no gains made. There was a flurry of motion, there was an opening, and everyone knew that the opening would soon close, that the moment would soon pass, and that too much would return to status quo. New faculty positions opened up in anti-Black racism and equity as universities struggled to respond to the growing and relentless demands of students, faculty and community at a time when the precarity of Black life became so evident.
George, you changed the world.
A month ago, some colleagues and comrades of mine visited the site where you were murdered, the square erected in your name. We met with activists and community organizers who had fought the long and hard battle for your life to matter and for changes in Minneapolis the city where you were slain. These amazing and resolute heroines told us stories of the battlefront during the uprising, the war that was fought after your death, and the stories blew my mind completely. Even though I had read and watched the stories online, it was so powerful to be there were you once walked, where you had your last breath, and where your spirit went to join that of our ancestors. It was so special to be there with people that had fought relentless for you, to make sure that you were not forgotten, to make sure that history was made in your name.
George, history will not forget you.
As I walked around the square, there was silence. In front of Cup foods I paused with my five-year-old daughter at the memorial with your picture and the shrine erected for you. I thought of your beautiful children, and can never imagine what they are feeling today. There were flowers and teddy bears that bore the stains of two years of rain, snow, and sun. It saddened me to see another memorial next to yours and more down the street of Black men that had been slain by the police since your murder. It was painful to learn of the many lives lost in the same city of your death, and it was difficult to not lose faith, to not lose hope about the imprint that you left in the world. But nonetheless I was encouraged by the courageous freedom fighters who continue to work every day to make sure that that space is held for you, and that you are not forgotten.
George, being in your square changed me, just as your death changed me.
I realize that Black death and Black disposability is something that can eat to the core of a Black bodied human being. It shakes us to the core, rattles our center, and breaks our hearts into tiny little pieces over and over again until it feels like there is nothing left to shatter. As a young and tall Black man, your last encounter with the police was not your first, your encounter with deeply disturbed racists was not your first, and your fight against a system so deeply rooted in bigotry was surely not your first, even though it was your last.
Even though too few people will mark today, George, I will always remember this day.
Do you know George, that today is also African Liberation Day? It is the day that we embrace our liberation. Today your body is free, and we too, we will be free. It is not a dream, it is a reality that we must embrace with the entirety of our collective breath, for you George, and for all those that have been slain.
In the midst of darkness and sadness and the ever-dimming light that that our country will find the courage to lay down its arms and create a society for us all, we remember you, George.
You changed the world, George Floyd.
You changed me.
May 25th, 2022
R. Nanre Nafziger
