“Momma!…” is all that resonated within me when I heard the audio. I could not or would not bring myself to watch the video, but all that resonated with my soul was “Momma!...”. I wept uncontrollably for a mile, slobbering like a baby, nose running, body quivering and trying to conceal my obvious emotional breakdown to the many faces which passed by me. How could they just go about their day when this “boy” was crying out to his Momma? Didn’t they know that somebody’s child, albeit a grown man, had just been murdered in full daylight? Didn’t they know that his final visceral response as he took his final breaths was to call upon the one person who gave him is first breath? I could not handle the voice in my head any longer as I thought of my kind-hearted magnanimous baby boy calling for me by “Momma…” (My other two kids, like many others, have different salutations for me such as “Ma” or “Mom”). As a Mother, I would connect with them with a “Yes Baby…” or “Hey Sweetheart…”. I could not handle the voice in my head any longer of George’s mother (who was deceased at the time that he called out for her) not being able to answer him and run to his rescue. So, I wept and wept and wept for that mile walk. I decided at that moment to answer for his mother as I formally began the journey towards and join the revolution with MOMS of BOTH: Mothers of Black & Brown in Blue
Someone eloquently stated that George Floyd’s murder and concurrent call for his mother summoned all mothers across the world. I unequivocally agree. He was murdered, Full-Stop, Period.
As a mother, it was an incredibly painful and surreal moment which should have catapulted everyone to action and advocacy for justice and doing the right thing for George and others. The “others” being my sons and other Black & brown targeted sons.