Black Lives Will Always Matter

Megan Hansen

Content warning: police violence and racial violence.

George Floyd was murdered by the police on May 25th.

George Floyd was murdered by the police on May 25th while the officer’s colleague watched.

George Floyd was murdered by the police on May 25th and we watched it happen on Facebook.

I sit with the privilege of my disbelief, every time, even as a new name, a new face, a new person with an entire life and hopes and dreams is killed regularly. We see the video, the HashtagJusticeFor, the tears, the outrage and even as it happens I know it will be mere hours before people forget, move on to the next tragedy demanding our tears, our outrage.

The third year medical students had a simulation session yesterday to prepare us on how to approach a patient with acute chest pain. As the medical students scrambled around trying to remember contraindications for medications and decide what to order, the patient repeatedly told us “I can’t breathe.” “I can’t breathe.” “I can’t breathe.” We eventually figured out what to do, stabilized the imaginary patient, and went through a debrief session. But George couldn’t breathe either. Bystanders watched and did nothing.

I can’t breathe.

To be a medical student is often to feel a frustrated helplessness—the kind that comes with knowing that we should have the knowledge, the resources, the training to deal with a problem, but that for as much as we know, there is so much more that we do not. When I’m in the hospital, I have always been okay with this helplessness because I have been assured by those above me that one day I will be able to take that action, that I will know how to diagnose that condition, manage that problem, approach that patient.

But this, the murder of our black and brown fellow human beings, feels like a problem too immense. And unlike in the hospital where there are residents, attendings, and nurses we can turn to for wisdom, the people in power are not taking accountability and we never see change. People dutifully repost #JusticeForGeorge, voice their shock and outrage, and share links to resources, and I know that they mean well. But what does it all mean when we forget, we move on, we allow another life to be lost because of apathy or indifference or powerlessness or pure trauma fatigue?

Police are murdering black and brown people. People we know, people we don’t, people we will never get a chance to meet. People who were friends, neighbors, loved ones. People who are described as “smart, upstanding citizens with bright futures” and people who are maligned as “thugs”, even in death. That’s the injustice of it—as if every life doesn’t have worth, as if any amount of loss is acceptable.

I can’t breathe.

There are people who will excuse not speaking out by saying that it is “too political, too controversial”. To those people, I would ask: when did speaking up the face of horrific injustice become a political act? When did being anti-murder become controversial? And to my fellow medical students, I would ask: how can we be passionate about saving lives in the hospital and yet stay silent in the midst of this public health crisis?

I have no answers here, other than what I have gleaned from others: listen to and uplift the voices of communities of color. If you have white privilege, leverage it for change. If you are grieving, hold yourself with compassion. Give yourself space, and then work to prevent the next death.

Black lives matter.

Black lives matter.

Black lives matter.

Links that I have found helpful:

For education (directed at ways white people can educate themselves and help): https://medium.com/equality-includes-you/what-white-people-can-do-for-racial-justice-f2d18b0e0234

To donate (to a fund to free people arrested for protesting): https://minnesotafreedomfund.org/donate

Megan Hansen is a third year medical student interested in public policy, advocacy, and the power of narrative.