Is there a worse feeling than being unheard? It’s the root of depression, right? Feeling misunderstood. Or like no one cares. Feeling like you have something to say, but no one is listening. How do you get attention?
Riot, bitch.
Take the power back. The Man is not listening to you? Become the man. Flip over some cop cars. Set shit on fire. Do whatever it takes to be heard. I’m equal, so why the hell am I separate? I can’t imagine what it must have felt like to be black in King’s era.
Hell, it’s hard enough to be black in Rodney King’s era. He was beaten by white police officers. The video of the incident and the eventual acquittal of the officers in their criminal trial led to the language of the unheard being screamed loud and clear. But, the $1 Billion dollars in damage, the dozens dead, and the thousands injured in the L.A. riots fixed nothing.
Rioting is just adding to the chaos. Both Kings just wanted us to get along. To heal. To talk. To make things better, not create more pain.
And to make things better we have to look at what got us here. To address our past. To learn from it so that we can change our future.
Rodney King’s past was rough. His dad was an alcoholic. He’s an alcoholic, but he went on Celebrity Rehab in hopes of creating a better future. And it was a beautiful thing to watch. He was heard. He was listened to. His story is heartbreaking and because of it he came to terms with other people with heartbreaking back stories.
The moment he went with Dr. Drew to the site where he was beaten nearly to death was so powerful. He left a Bible there. And forgave the officers who beat him. He took responsibility for what he did (drinking too much and driving) and forgave those who beat him with excessive force. (Edit: I found a link to the video of King and Dr. Drew re-visiting that spot. Access it here. I love the end when Rodney sheepishly acknowledges that he is an inspiration to people. He grew up feeling the exact opposite.)
He understood that they had fucked up pasts just like him. And he chose to let go of the anger and ill will towards the officers who beat the shit out of him. King was a very likeable and gentle man in rehab. His drinking made him something else.
But, he’s fucking human and was deeply affected by how he was raised and in a recent check in it was clear that he’s still battling his disease. I can relate to that. I want to get better and heal, but I fuck up on the regular, falling flat on my face.
But, these days when I fall down, I’m able to get back up. The same grace that Rodney King experienced and gave away is the grace that works in me. It doesn’t see color. It sees pain and was created to heal that pain.
And I’ve learned that when I’m honest about my pain, grace has a better chance of moving in that space…the real. I love telling my fucked up story, not only because of the people who can relate to it and learn from it, but also for the people that notice things and teach me about myself.
I guess, in a sense, the written word has become my riot. I lived 36 years feeling unheard. Feeling belittled. Feeling insignificant. That shit that was bottled up gets a forum to come out now. It’s incredibly freeing. I’m not the scared little kid who stuffs his feelings, because that’s what you’re supposed to do with uncomfortable things.
I talked to the kids tonight about what we need to do with the uncomfortable. I likened Blake crying tonight to a riot. His uncomfortable feelings don’t have words to go with them yet, so he screamed and cried. And we talked about MLK and Rodney K and how much it sucks to feel helpless.
The image that I thought of tonight that kills me was the story of one of the Jerry Sandusky rape victims. He cried out for help from the Sandusky basement, knowing there was help upstairs. Help didn’t come. He cried and he cried. And there was no help.
Help. Less.
I don’t know if I cried when I went through my childhood trauma. But, I know I’ve grown up feeling helpless and depressed. And that’s why I love getting to riot out here. To tell the fucking truth. To not stay in the basement. To turn the tables. To become the Man instead of letting the Man run over me. To everyone who’s ever felt voiceless, sing…
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