Protection

Who has a right to protection and who does not?

How do the ways gender and race impact our ability to protect ourselves? I think about “stand your ground” laws, and Ahmaud Arbery and Trayvon Martin, killed by white men claiming self-defense and a right to “protect” their community. When George Zimmerman was acquitted, it was understood, of course he would be fearful of an unknown Black person. No question.

How abstract the threat is here. No active threat of danger, no knife to the throat, no broken door hinges. A suspicion. An idea of who is dangerous and who is safe.

I think of Breonna Taylor and Kenneth Walker. When cops broke into their home, not announcing themselves. I imagine the panic of hearing someone enter your home, remembering the night I had someone break in while I slept. And Kenneth firing a shot. To protect him and Breonna, to scare them off, to intimidate. To “stand your ground.” A law crafted to justify self protection.

I think of how it wasn’t even part of the grand jury case to hold those officers responsible, because of course they would shower the room with bullets after that. Regardless of the violence of breaking in. The door gapping open.

Who has a right to be safe in their own neighborhoods, homes? Who has a right to armed defense – a right that is uplifted as a core American value.

I think about the white armed militias, the ones showing up at rallies, political events, precincts to “protect America”. And I think of the Black Panthers, and the modern groups that have sprung from their legacy, that black people deserve to protect themselves. That if open and carry laws stand, they apply to all.

I think of Korryn Gaines a mother, holding her child as police threaten to break in, for a traffic violation, threaten to kill her. When they stand for generations of abusers against her and those like her. And yet she was the aggressor, as her rifle lay next to her. Shot in front of her child.

And what about Ammon Bundy, the man who led an armed take over of the National Forest Service. That he could take up armed defense of property that was not his. Without danger to his own life. Never fearing the rifle in his hands might fall.

And I think about all the women, including myself, who have been sexually assaulted. That surviving the incident was the only form of protection we were allowed. All the lessons on survival that said just get through it, erasing any wisdom of protection. I remember the time I retaliated, and the punishment I received. Better to take it then fight back.

I think about domestic violence survivors, who in desperation killed their abusive partners, and now linger in jail. Removed from their families, their support networks, their trauma continuing. Unprotected, still. In New York, at least 67% of women sent to prison for killing someone, were abused by that person.

I think about how the rates of domestic violence by those in law enforcement. One study showed at least 40% of officers had assaulted their spouse in the previous year. Or the rates of sexual assault of those imprisoned. At least 21% of those imprisoned reported being sexual assaulted by a guard.

The violence of law enforcement is far reaching. Perpetrators of abuse are not isolated to citiziens, to interpersonal events. But embedded into our culture of white supremcay, capitalism, and the prison system required to maintain both.

Abolition is more than ending the armed force on the street, but ending a culture of violence and punishment that damages everyone around it. Its about not normalizing violence. Including violence between spouses, or betwen guard and imprisioned person.

If we want to use MEDUSA’s legend to say all survivors should protect themselves with force. We must understand who is committing those acts of violence and what happens to most of us when we do. Who is dangerous? And who are we allowed to protect ourselves from?

Perhaps even consider,

what is protection without violence - retaliation?