Your grief rang out from my television. Your pleas of “I want my daddy” echoed in a small living room in Massachusetts. Far from the intrusive cameras broadcasting your grief, I sobbed with you. I wish I could give you your daddy back.
Cameron, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry that your father was killed in that parking lot. I’m sorry that there is a system of injustice in this country that will most likely allow it to go without consequence. I’m sorry for the evil people who will malign your father and blame him for his own murder while hiding behind a fake screen name. I’m sorry for all of it.
I pray that God’s loving arms will cradle you like a daddy holding a precious child. I trust that your daddy now lives in the eternal peace of God. May friends and family love and support you through your grief.
As for me, Cameron, I’m here, far away from Baton Rouge, doing what I can to build up the realm of God. A place where equality is real and justice is not a word trotted out for elections and press conferences but a true way of life for all of God’s children. And I know it isn't nearly enough. And sometimes I get sad that it will never be enough. But I'm a woman of faith so I'll keep trying with hope for the future. Your future, Cameron and mine, because I don't want to live in a world where murdering a black man is acceptable procedure.
I cannot give you your daddy back but I will do what I can to make sure no other child has to cry on television to open the ears of those who have been deaf to the sobs. I will do what I can to make sure that no other child has to pray that mommy has Facebook Live running to keep her safe. I will try, dear Cameron, to be a better human. One who works everyday to confront racism – racism in society and racism so ingrained in me that it takes me by surprise and makes me ashamed when I recognize it. Like I said, I get sad sometimes, but I keep trying. I keep trying because it's all we can do. Step by step. Word by word. It often feels like we are building God's kingdom of peace and justice one tiny Lego brick at a time. But even that doesn't stop the construction.
So, go on and cry a while longer, Cameron. Grieve as you need to and I’ll be here crying with you and working in hope to make these tears be your last.
Yours in Christ,
Jen Munroe-Nathans