Crying Out for Justice for Black Lives

Rise up, O Lord; O God, lift up your hand; do not forget the oppressed. Why do the wicked renounce God, and say in their hearts, “You will not call us to account”? (Ps 10:12-13, NRSV)

On Sunday, beloved child of God Daunte Wright was murdered by police during a traffic stop.

Yet again, we have borne witness to the violent killing of a Black man. Just last June, as protests proliferated throughout the world in the wake of the murder of George Floyd, we joined a statement with the Human Rights Campaign and hundreds of other LGBTQ+ organizations calling for radical change in policing.

People rose up as communities, cities, as entire nations to proclaim that Black lives matter. There were marches, shared resources, vigils—we sought justice in every way we knew how. Advocates pursued and, in some instances, successfully passed policy that just scratched the surface of what needs to be done.

Yet here we are, almost 10 months later, and nothing has changed: Another Black man is dead, and a system that disproportionately arrests, imprisons, and murders Black lives continues to operate with impunity.

White supremacy cannot be reformed out of existence—it must be dismantled. Violence against Black lives cannot be trained out of existence—it must be abolished.

We’re outraged, and we’re exhausted.

The denigration of Black dignity and life is not new by any means. We are still reckoning with centuries of injustice, and silence is not an option. A path was forged in 1619 as colonizers trafficked Black lives to occupied Native lands for the sole purpose of brutal exploitation. 

Thoughts and prayers and minor changes which rely upon the scapegoating of so-called bad apples are not enough to erase 402 years of systemic oppression and violence. 

Enough was enough in 1776.

Enough was enough in 1862.

Enough was enough in 1991.

Enough was enough in 2020.

Enough is enough.

Today, in our grief and rage, we cry out for justice alongside our Black siblings in Minneapolis and throughout the country, particularly the family and friends of Daunte Wright as they grieve his death and lament the failures of our attempts to change a deeply racist system.

Indeed, [Lord] you note trouble and grief, that you may take it into your hands; the helpless commit themselves to you; you have been the helper of the orphan. (Ps 10:14, NRSV)

We reaffirm and reiterate our call for the divestment of public funding away from the current mode of policing and for structural transformation in the United States.

Justice for Black lives is justice for LGBTQ+ lives. Just as our lives are interconnected, the pursuit of equity is interconnected, and it always has been. We should “bear one another’s burdens” (Gal 6:2 NRSV), and in doing so, follow in the way of Christ. Whether in civil protections for trans and gender-expansive citizens or an immigration system that affirms the inherent dignity of every person, it is as Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., said: “Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.”

Daunte Wright, a beloved, beautiful, Black child of God, should still be alive.

For Daunte, for Michael, for Dominique, for Sandra, for Trayvon, for Riah, for George, for Breonna, for Monika, and for so many more throughout history, let justice roll like a river.

O Lord, you will hear the desire of the meek; you will strengthen their heart, you will incline your ear to do justice for the orphan and the oppressed, so that those from earth may strike terror no more. (Ps 10:17-18, NRSV)