Why Is That Building On Fire?

This one is about race.

“Daddy. Why does that man have his knee on the other man’s neck? Why is that building on fire?”

So here we are.

Following the national and social media coverage of a series of three tragic (and utterly American) race-driven hate crimes, day has followed day of events showing solidarity, calls for change, and protests against a persistent evil that many prefer to believe belongs to a closed chapter in our country’s “ugly racial history.”

Night after night, these events have been escalated by looters, instigators, and opportunists who lay in wait to perpetuate division and strife. As of Monday, I would add the White House and others meeting peaceful protest with violent response to this list.

The images of unrest, violence, and hate that permeate our airwaves and communities are breaking news, not history lessons, and their very familiarity is heartbreaking. The vacuum of leadership at all levels has left America adrift, confused, and angry. Exhausted by political mismanagement, miscalculation, and strategic efforts to divide them, Americans are taking to the streets because they have nowhere else to go.

As an attorney, I both respect the letter of the law and demand it be followed. As a parent, I’m determined to ensure that our laws and institutions allow my daughters a safe future, without fear or barrier. As a public servant and elected official, I clearly see the need and path toward a new coalition demanding equity and opportunity based on common good and common sense.

But, as a black man in Texas, I also know the flashpoints. Occasionally, I have been the flashpoint.

Many years ago, I heard Colin Powell speak at an event at the University of Texas. He told the room something I’ll never forget: When he drove the back roads of Mississippi, he knew he was a black man and knew all too well not to forget it.

The audience, mostly white, was clearly taken aback that a former Secretary of State, four star General, Commander of the U.S. Army Forces Command, and Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff could have that perspective, that experience.

My own experience tells me that this is the rule, not the exception. Generations of black men — and the incalculable benefits they could have brought to their communities and their families — have been sidelined because they are viewed as something different, less deserving, less able. Against the backdrop of the fabled American Dream, generations of black children have viewed their parents — and themselves — as outsiders through the same lens.

Think of it. Again, heartbreaking.

I know and am thankful that I am blessed. I have a loving and encouraging family, the best education available to anyone, training in my chosen profession beyond compare, and a broad network who I turn to for help and who turn to me in times of need.

Even so, to support my family, serve my community, and succeed for my clients, I am always conscious, vigilant even, to meet the expectation of being a “safe” black man. I have internalized racism to put others at ease.

That can be a bitter pill to swallow and others have chosen different paths. Systemic and institutionalized American racism has made even that mild bridge toward compromise first uncrossable then unappealing then abandoned by many others who look like me.

The pandemic (remember the pandemic?) provides catastrophic examples of these failures. COVID-19, which sees no color, has delivered disproportionate sickness and death to black communities. This is a systemic, human failure. Black businesses are disproportionately damaged by COVID economics. This is an institutional, human failure.

That said, and overlooking the glaring disparity for a moment, the coronavirus has provided the moment of inflection we must seize to flatten society’s barriers once and for all. Rebuilding our devastated economy must include rebuilding our communities, redefining our relationships, and redesigning paths to meet potential.

That will require leadership. That will require vision. That will require vastly raised expectations of our public officials as informed by hard conversations.

How do we begin to meet the opportunity?

1. Talk about race.
2. Talk about race.
3. Talk about race.

Sunlight cleans a room. Transparency improves the view. Conversation clears the air.

Talk about preconceived notions concerning race and how they were formed. Talk to someone with a different perspective. Talk about thoughts and emotions.

And listen. Don’t just wait to give your opinion. Actively seek out and listen to different perspectives (there are many) and work through understanding them.

Not talking, not listening, helps absolutely no one. “Race blindness” is impossible and entirely misses the point. Quota hiring/investment builds corporate ghettos, further marginalizing the mainstream community. Not working through the equation to see that every integer adds unique value messes up the math.

As we work through this, we must be careful not to attribute to malice what can be easily explained by misunderstanding. But understanding is sometimes hard to come by.

No matter how difficult those conversations may be, they will be easier than the one with my 7 year old who asked: Daddy, why do people hate me because my skin is brown?

Let’s get started. Let’s put out this fire once and for all.

My ongoing to do list:

• Work with other local and state elected officials to deliver the policy changes we need to see.
• Coordinate with legal leaders across the state to defend the rule of law and everyone’s right to be treated with decency and respect.
• Protect the right to be fairly heard, not only by marching peacefully but in the courtroom.
• Work with law enforcement leaders to root out bad officers. Bad cops are not only the enemy of people who look like me, but of good cops and society in general.
• Champion activists and agents of peaceful, progressive, impactful change.

Please reach out to me to share your experience or hear more about mine. If you’d like to lead or participate in a solutions-based, all-perspective community discussion around racial equity and reconciliation, let’s set one up.

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Rudy Metayer currently sits on the Pflugerville City Council, CAMPO, and the Austin Bar Association. He is the son of Haitian immigrants, a proud Central Texan, graduate of UT Law School and LBJ School of Public Policy, and a happy husband and father of three girls.