“Trayon Martin is the Emmett Till” of our time… that’s a statement I have continually heard in these past days and I would have to agree. The corollary is also true here: Sybrina Fulton is the Mamie Till-Bradley of our time. In Sybrina Fulton’s talk at the rally at One Police Plaza in New York City this past weekend, I was particularly inspired by these lines:
As I sat in the courtroom, it made me think that they were talking about another man. And it wasn’t. It was a child, who thought as a child, who acted as a child, who behaved as a child. And don’t take my word for it. He had a drink and candy. So, not only—not only do I vow to you to do what I can for Trayvon Martin, I promise you I’m going to work hard for your children, as well, because it’s important. (see 16:43 to 17:20 of the footage shot by Democracy Now).
When you think of the difficulty Mamie Till-Bradley had in securing her son’s body (Mississippi seemed to block her every move to have his body shipped to her in Chicago), it seems strangely reminiscent of the days Sybrina Fulton had to wait for her son’s body to be named Trayvon Martin, rather than the original John Doe white police proclaimed him to be, unworthy of even an investigation. It is not simply that both mothers lost their sons to white violence, publicly paraded by the courts’ refusal to convict their murderers. It is the way these women opened up their grief to the world and to a social analysis of that world.
Mamie Till-Bradley has not often been written into the chronicles of history as radical; it has mostly been black women and black feminists who have done this work and will continue to do this work with Sybrina Fulton’s life also. Both of these women’s radical, emotional openness is simply chilling for me. Ironically, we are in an age where everybody thinks they are “radically open” because they can post photos and videos on any and every social networking site of: 1) their children performing liberal rituals of white, nuclear American familyhood such that facebook, google+, and youtube become the new “Leave it to Beaver”; 2) themselves, friends, and family and the neoliberal objects/vacations/outings/performances they have materially acquired as the site of today’s corporate-induced narcissism. All that “openness” but ain’t none of it like Sybrina Fulton’s! Or Mamie Till-Bradley’s! An openness that looks American apartheid right in the eye rather than promote its whiteness! At a time when most people use the “public forum” to simply promote the system we are in, Mamie and Sybrina halted the empty notions of progress, material celebration, and mainstream values that a white world would want to visually represent as Truth. If there was ever a definition of speaking Truth-to-Power, this is it.
I think about Sybrina Fulton quite often and I cringe at the label that I hear too many often giving to her: strong black woman. Yes, Sybrina Fulton is strong. Who would suggest otherwise? Yes, I understand the sentiment because so many of us hold her close and dear to our hearts and prayers, hoping she will know she is loved and cherished, shaken to our own core by the pain we can only imagine she is enduring. Yes, we feel the awesomeness of her ability to stand in the face of that pain, brutality, and ugliness. But we need some deeper understandings of this legacy of black women and black mothers who defy all odds to love their children and challenge a world that hates black people. Violence against black children is violence against black mothers so strength ain’t even the half.
Our current context is one that melds:
Multimedia cartels where most Americans visually circumscribe and incessantly celebrate mainstream, white familyhood, a continual site of historical violence and exclusivity in this country— I am not suggesting this is limited to the U.S., you need only watch the current foolishness surrounding the Royal Baby in England to know the U.S. has never been alone in mobilizing white imperialism to define family/nation;
A world where black motherhood is demonized and made into public spectacle for a gaze as white as the viewing of Gone with the Wind— Tune in any Tuesday or Wednesday to Tyler Perry on OWN; he, of course, has not invented these images but when we promote them ourselves then you KNOW we’s in trouble (last night, Big Momma sang a slave spiritual to her white female boss, further castigated her own black daughter-turned-prostitute, and begged/sobbed for son’s release from prison).
When you place Sybrina Fulton into this kind of context, you begin to see why the label “strength” just won’t do for a black woman like her. And you begin to see why so many black women will write her body, story, and pain so centrally into the history of black people and black freedom.