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Do we care? | Scotty Moore

Guest Post by Scotty Moore, Millennials staff of Cru Orlando

 

“I don’t have to “wait for the facts” in order to lament, mourn, & weep over the murder of #TerranceCrutcher & neither should you.” – D.A. Horton

Would I feel differently if this were my Brazilian wife because her skin is brown?  Yes.  Would you feel differently if this were your loved one?  Very likely, yes.  Terence was someone’s loved one.  I cannot stay silent anymore.  I cannot stay numb anymore.

Terence Crutcher is a real person and he is now dead.  A life cut short.  To my black friends (and non-friends I do not yet know) – I am sorry.  I am a white guy and I haven’t had reason to feel fear like some of you. I know I don’t understand. I am trying.  But, I do know that I just cannot stay silent anymore.

If we are to see Orlando flourish and thrive, this is an important topic. We must come together. We must see action.We all know there is no quick or easy fix, but we must agree that everyone has the right to feel safe in their city!

I am grateful for our law enforcement officers and their protection and I understand there is always another perspective / viewpoint in every situation.   With that said, I think we all can agree that something has to be done and this has to stop.

Below is a post written by Jen Hatmaker.  She has five kids, two of which are adopted and black.  Her words echod in my heart this morning.  You can find the original post here on her Facebook:

“Guys, my heart is simply broken this morning over Terence Crutcher. In what scenario are black men safe? Because any peaceful citizen should be able to survive a stalled car situation. Unarmed, nonviolent, hands up, compliant, a completely innocent man. Completely innocent. Completely innocent and compliant and on his way home from community college.

White friends, today is the day to grieve. Full stop. No explanations. No justifications. We mourn as we hear the man in the helicopter observe, “He looks like a bad dude. Might be on something…” creating fear and adrenaline and danger where there should have been none.

This is what Terence’s sister said:

“You want to know who that big bad dude was? That big bad dude was my twin brother. That big bad dude was a father. That big bad dude was a son. That big bad dude was enrolled in Tulsa Community College. That big bad dude loved God. That big bad dude was at church singing with all his flaws every week. That big bad dude…that’s who he was.”

I am heartbroken and angry and devastated and fed up today. In just a few short years, this will be my son. Driving home from class, changing lanes, figuring out what to do with a stalled out car. God protect him from being perceived as big and bad and possibly strung out on drugs.

Let’s mourn today, friends. Another family devastated, another community traumatized.”

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