The tragic and senseless killings of Black women like 36-year-old Sonya Massey weigh heavily on my heart and mind. As someone who grew up believing in the necessity and value of law enforcement, I find myself grappling with an increasingly difficult stance. The police, an institution meant to protect and serve, has failed in its duty to safeguard the lives of all citizens, particularly Black women. This failure has shattered families and communities and eroded the trust and respect that many of us have traditionally placed in law enforcement.
As a Black woman, I could very well see myself in Massey’s position, afraid there might be a prowler outside and calling on the police for help. I could also see myself trying to follow their instructions and still end up being shot in the face.
Body camera video shows Sangamon County Sheriff’s Deputy Sean Grayson shoot Massey on July 6 as she followed police instructions to remove a pot of hot water from a stove top. The situation escalated quickly, with Massey given almost no time to put the pot of water down before Grayson pulled his gun and shots were fired.
Her near last words, “I rebuke you in the name of Jesus.”
Grayson has been arrested and indicted on first-degree murder and aggravated battery charges–but it’s still a long way from an arrest to a conviction of a police officer for anything in the U.S.
Sonya Massey’s death is not an isolated incident but part of a disturbing pattern that highlights systemic issues within policing. The frequent, unjustified use of lethal force against Black women reflects deep-seated racial biases and a lack of accountability within the system. Each new incident rekindles the pain and outrage felt by communities and raises critical questions about the effectiveness and morality of our current law enforcement practices.
Deaths like Massey’s challenge the resolve of many of us, including those of us who have traditionally supported law enforcement. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to reconcile our respect for the police with the need to demand justice and accountability for these unjust actions.
I could not bring myself to watch another video of someone dying. So no–I never watched the video of Massey’s death. It really is too much to bear. I grew up with a grandmother who routinely rebuked things in the name of Jesus. Long before Sonya Massey’s killing, those words had been etched into my psyche as I am sure the same can be said of many of us who grew up with those grandmas.
I grew up in the 1980s with a mother who worked as a dispatcher for LAPD and going to school in Hermosa Beach where we were taught to believe that the police were good. I didn’t have any dealings–especially not bad dealings– with the police until later in life and even then I have always found myself trying to give the police the benefit of the doubt. I also didn’t have any immediate family members in jail or prison or who were connected to the criminal justice system. In fact, when I think back on it, as ironic as this is going to sound, I was introduced to the criminal justice system through the Department of Children and Services in the 1990s as a foster child living in group homes.
But the last 15 or so years have taught and shown me a lot when it comes to Black people being killed by police. I can no longer honestly say that you as long as you do what you’re supposed to do, mind your own business, stay in your own home, or do what you’re told that you are safe. I’m not convinced of that anymore.
And while they are not in the same room with me right now as I type this, I can hear their collective hallelujah and finally from my cousin and best friend who have been trying to convince me of this for years.
But if they were in the same room with me right now, I’d say–but hold up before you get too excited.
While I can’t stand bad cops (and spent several years exposing them), I do know many really good people–Black included–who have dedicated their life’s work to law enforcement. I know that many people believe that there are no good cops, but that’s not the lens I walk through life seeing through. Just like no one can convince me there are no good Black people.
As someone who didn’t grow up harboring ill feelings toward the police, I find myself at a crossroads in my 40s. My fundamental belief that the police are here to protect us has been severely tested. How can I reconcile my support for law enforcement with the undeniable evidence of its failings? How can I continue to believe in an institution that so frequently appears to disregard the lives of those it is meant to protect?
This internal conflict is not unique to me. Many who once stood firmly in support of the police are now grappling with disillusionment and doubt. I still don’t believe that the answer is to vilify all officers–yet. I still believe that we need to demand systemic reform and accountability and advocate for changes that address the root causes of these tragedies—racism, inadequate training, and a lack of transparency and accountability. We have to end blanket qualified immunity.
It hurts. It hurts to attend vigils and listen to parents, grandparents, siblings, and friends talk about someone who was taken from them by police. It hurts to watch people crying in pain. It hurts to see children lose their mother or father.
It’s no secret that I am not an abolitionist. However, I did away with my unwavering support of law enforcement a long, long time ago and what little support for law enforcement I have left in me is rapidly declining with the killings of Black women like Sonya Massey.
I don’t have all the answers to ending police violence against Black people, but I know something has to change. It’s heartbreaking and infuriating to see this cycle of violence and injustice continue. And it’s honestly changing the way I–and others like me–who weren’t already jaded by law enforcement–look at the police. And when you lose us, you lose a crucial non-biased support base. We’re the ones who have advocated for balanced and fair policing–sometimes finding ourselves on opposite sides of the fence from those in our community. But the continued senseless killings, like that of Sonya Massey, are eroding our trust and challenging our convictions.
Many of us who feel this way still know we have to dial 911 in case of an emergency. Until there’s another way to call for help that works for us all–this is the system we’re in–so we have to work to make it better.
For now, I’m committed to doing my part in this collective fight, using my voice to speak my truth authentically and working tirelessly for the change we desperately need. However, the killing of Sonya Massey has put me on the verge of giving up, feeling that this system might be beyond repair.
