The Eye of the Camera: an unflinching witness to brutality
My introduction to the fruits of hatred was the bloated, destroyed face of Emmett Louis Till, published in the September 8, 1955 edition of Jet magazine, then a black-owned publication for African Americas.
Unless you were a subscriber to Jet, you would not have seen the extent to which two white supremacists had beaten and mutilated the body of the 14-year old Chicagoan on summer vacation in Mississippi.
“The pair…beat Till, shot him, and strung barbed wire and a 75-pound metal fan around his neck and dumped the lifeless body in the Tallahatchie River.” (Time “100 Photos”)
I cried hysterically after seeing the photo; my mother did her best to console me.
The next day, I tearfully brought up the murder in one of my classes at Cathedral High School (then a predominantly white institution for Catholic immigrant families in New York City). I might even have had the magazine with me.
Nonetheless, the teacher, a Sister of Charity, ignored the opportunity to use my anguish as a “teachable” moment about racial injustice, violence against African Americans, or segregation in America. I believe she dismissed my outburst as adolescent hysteria.
Up to that point, my 15-year old self had known next to nothing about racism or racial violence against African Americans. My Catholic school “education,” like that of public schools at the time, did not include the untold history of America—from the massacre of native American tribes to the gruesome lynching of African Americans in the Southern states.
Still photos of lynching victims at the time captured the result of violence, not the ugly circumstances before or during these vile acts--the glee and complicity of white onlookers and perpetrators. Those Americans lacked even the smallest degree of mercy or compassion.
Fast forward.
Today, acts of violence against black men, women, and children are captured on police video cams, surveillance cameras, dash cams, and mobile phones.
Unlike the media coverage of violence against civil rights protesters in the 1960s, today’s videos document not only the brutalization, but even the killing, of African Americans at the hands of police officers in real time.
Images are shared (mostly by bystanders) seconds after they are recorded, unfiltered, and unedited.
Consider these video images:
25-year old Rodney Glen King is assaulted by 14 LAPD officers after his arrest for drunk driving. (Los Angeles, CA, March 3, 1991)
Michael Brown’s uncovered body lies on the pavement for hours after Officer Darren Wilson shoots him. (Ferguson, MO, August 9, 2014)
Alton Sterling is shot in the back while running away from Officer Michael Slager after a routine traffic stop. (Baton Rouge, LA, July 5, 2016)
Philando Castille, his tee-shirt covered in blood, is slumped over the passenger seat after Officer Jeronimo Yanez has fired into the car. (Falcon Heights, MN July 6, 2016)
Ahmaud Arbery, 25, collapses after being shot by two white men as he tries to elude their trucks. (Brunswick, GA, February 23, 2020)
“I can’t breathe,” pleads George Floyd as white police officers pin him face-down on the pavement with Derek Chauvin’s knee on his neck. (Houston, TX May 25, 2020)
29-year old Jacob Blake is walking toward the passenger side of his SUV (in which two of his children are seated) when officers fire seven times, hitting him four times. (Kenosha, WI, August 23, 2020)
Ignorance of the ongoing violence against black Americans is no longer an excuse.
However, many African Americans confess that these images are too painful to watch. They evoke anger, frustration, and bitterness.
Yes, graphic videos are difficult to watch; however, as a writer who comments on contemporary issues related to criminal injustice, I do not feel that I have the luxury of not watching.
I want to get a sense of these moments.
For example, in a June 2020 video of Rayshard Brooks’ interactions with Atlanta Police Officers Devin Brosnan and Garrett Rolfe, Brooks, although seemingly intoxicated, is polite and cooperative. Clearly, he does not believe that the situation warrants his arrest.
Throughout the video, Brooks says repeatedly that his family is at a location not too far from the parking lot. I wondered why the officers never considered calling his family to take him home in another vehicle.
Nonetheless, after a struggle over Rolfe’s taser (after an attempt to handcuff him), Brooks is shot in the back as runs away from officers.
Likewise, as George Floyd gasps for air, Officer Tou Thoa, shields his fellow officers from angry onlookers, who yell, “Get off his neck” and “he’s not fucking moving, bro!”
One woman, who identifies herself as a fire department emergency medical technician, yells, “Tell me what his pulse is now!”
According to a Metro News article, “Thao is not seen trying to intervene or get Chauvin off Floyd at any time during the clip. Instead, he argued with bystanders, telling them to stay back.”
For me, this demonstrates the officer’s total disregard for Floyd’s welfare.
Sadly, I do not believe that we have seen the end of videotaped vigilante or police violence against black Americans.
Indeed, the eye of the camera stands as an unflinching witness to brutality against those our society deems disposable or unimportant.
We cannot afford to look away.
© 2020 wistajohnson.com (Reprint by permission only.)