I've been a big fan of the show Black•ish. It's funny, and my wife and I have tuned in nearly every week since it premiered.
But no more. Last night's episode, Hope, left me angry and hope•less. Look, I understand wanting to be relevant. I understand wanting to address current events. But for an episode chock full of facts and statistics, they left out a few.
The most glaring one is that of the term "unarmed". They pointed out that 25% of people killed by police (in Los Angeles) were unarmed. I'll throw a bone to the character Rainbow, who quipped that 25% unarmed means 75% were armed. That's true. But unarmed doesn't necessarily mean not dangerous. As my wife pointed out, the most popular sport that people are getting involved in is mixed martial arts, or MMA. If you know some MMA moves, you likely don't need a traditional weapon. And consider this: a couple years ago, a female police officer was handcuffing a suspect when he unexpectedly turned around and punched her with so much force it knocked her out. But technically, he was unarmed.
Also glaringly absent from the fact-filled dialog last night was how many officers are killed on the job. 13 so far just this year. If you want to have an honest, relevant conversation, that really should be a part of it. Unless you're looking to alienate and narrow down your audience. If that was the goal, then congrats on a job well done, Black•ish.
Thursday, February 25, 2016
Saturday, February 13, 2016
My Facebook Apology
What is it with social media that allows us to behave like complete jerks, with no concern of how it will portray us? Why do we feel free to be mean, to talk down in ways we'd never do in person? Why do we allow ourselves to start arguments, or to shred someone to pieces?
To be sure, I have tossed things into the Facebook universe in a moment of anger. I have come across as hateful and uncaring more than once. I use language that I'd never use in front of my pastor. Generally, I'm complelled to act this way because I'm mad about an injustice I see. I am a passionate defender of those I support. And usually, it's cops.
I have lived with police officers my whole life. They're in my family. Their friends are my friends. And here is what I know about them--they are a strong bunch. Most of them like guns. They like the thrill of driving their police cars to a scene, lights on and sirens blaring loudly. They like being physically fit, but also really like junk food.
Here's what else I know: they became cops because of their deep commitment to helping those in need. They want to right the wrongs in the world. They love helping victims. They love justice. And this: they cry when a kid dies. They get sick when they are called to a scene where someone has committed suicide. Their hearts break when they take a report from a rape victim. They worry about their cases--did they do everything right, not miss a detail, not do anything that will result in an attorney getting the perp off on a technicality?
They have nightmares--about bodies they've found, about terrible scenes they've worked, about being killed as they step out of their police car.
They age quickly. Their bodies break down because of the enormous physical demands of the job. They stress. They worry that they'll have to kill someone. They worry about defending themselves, and that whatever they do will lead to lawsuits, jail time, or riots in their city.
They are depressed. It's hard to work a physically and spiritually demanding job that has so many critics. They turn on the TV and hear celebrities and politicians demean them, question their motives, accuse them of being murderers, even as those same celebrities and politicians seek their protection.
And so I fly off the handle. I post angry rants. I share the latest pro-police meme. And I act like I am a pretty hateful person. But I'm not hateful. Far from it. I just want to protect those who would die to save me. And you.
So, please be patient with me. I'm still learning how to balance love and passionate support.
To be sure, I have tossed things into the Facebook universe in a moment of anger. I have come across as hateful and uncaring more than once. I use language that I'd never use in front of my pastor. Generally, I'm complelled to act this way because I'm mad about an injustice I see. I am a passionate defender of those I support. And usually, it's cops.
I have lived with police officers my whole life. They're in my family. Their friends are my friends. And here is what I know about them--they are a strong bunch. Most of them like guns. They like the thrill of driving their police cars to a scene, lights on and sirens blaring loudly. They like being physically fit, but also really like junk food.
Here's what else I know: they became cops because of their deep commitment to helping those in need. They want to right the wrongs in the world. They love helping victims. They love justice. And this: they cry when a kid dies. They get sick when they are called to a scene where someone has committed suicide. Their hearts break when they take a report from a rape victim. They worry about their cases--did they do everything right, not miss a detail, not do anything that will result in an attorney getting the perp off on a technicality?
They have nightmares--about bodies they've found, about terrible scenes they've worked, about being killed as they step out of their police car.
They age quickly. Their bodies break down because of the enormous physical demands of the job. They stress. They worry that they'll have to kill someone. They worry about defending themselves, and that whatever they do will lead to lawsuits, jail time, or riots in their city.
They are depressed. It's hard to work a physically and spiritually demanding job that has so many critics. They turn on the TV and hear celebrities and politicians demean them, question their motives, accuse them of being murderers, even as those same celebrities and politicians seek their protection.
And so I fly off the handle. I post angry rants. I share the latest pro-police meme. And I act like I am a pretty hateful person. But I'm not hateful. Far from it. I just want to protect those who would die to save me. And you.
So, please be patient with me. I'm still learning how to balance love and passionate support.
Monday, February 8, 2016
I am supposed to be studying, but I can't focus. The dreary day keeps distracting me, causing my thoughts to wander. A song came on, one that was significant to me in a relationship from a long time ago. I silently pray that the person from my past is doing well. I imagine what it would be like to dance to that song with my wife, and decide it would be marvelous, as the words really suit this relationship better than the one it reminds me of.
It's almost Valentine's Day. I guess that's a big deal for some, but the older I get, the less I care. I think treating your beloved like they're special all year long is what matters most. As I was leaving a client's house today, I decided that I would do something special for my wife each day. Something servant-oriented. I know that seems antiquated, to want to serve your significant other. But when both people serve each other, then both get treated amazingly. If you think about it, it's exactly how God loves us. It's a pretty good kind of love, too. One that really shows your devotion to your beloved.
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