Madness

The year was 1992, the place was Las Angles, city of angels. The people were unhappy, and they had been at a number of things, for quite some time.

African-American and Korean-American communities came in conflict. The former feeling insulted, and perhaps, displaced or pushed back by the latte, after all, this had been "their" community, who were these new comers? Was this about jobs, or lack of jobs, maybe, Korean would hire Korean, but not the other way around, because of language mostly, but also maybe because of lack of trust, these people simply did not know each other, and no one seemed willing, or able to bring them together. Where was the effort of someone to step forth to unite these people? Should the mayor do something, shouldn't someone? No one did, thus the tension built. This reached a point where a Korean was killed by the African-American. Black on yellow violence, if you will.

Alongside of this, the LAPD had been reported numinous times by many prominent blacks and others as being to brutal in their ways, using excessive force, at this time, no mention of the color of the officers was mentioned, perhaps latter people did, but them being white was not the issue, it was that they, collectively had been abusing their power, stepping over the line, and not being punished for it, those that were enforcing the law were also breaking the law. When one Rodney King got beaten by several officers, the tension in the community bubbled and boiled up, the blood was boiling hot. Then, a trial was held. Finally, justice would be done... but the officers were found not guilty.

Then hell broke out. Riots happened over the next several days. Destruction of personal and private property, people beating up other people, and there were hero's risking their well-being to save others from attacks, harm, and assault.

Yet, too few heros to stop the madness, the anger was there, mob mentality and group think had taken over many, "oh look, they are doing bad, I guess I can do bad as well" a single person might be sensible, but a group of people can be insane, and if so — become a mob.

I was thirteen at the time. We wrote about the event in school. I do not remember what I wrote, or what we were told about this event, it was far away, and I saw it as something wrong, something unjust yet it was not something I understood.

Today I am forty-one, and we see, again that a number of things have been building. People HATE the President, and the media is helping them to hate him. The left vs right has become a cold war of sorts, or so some would lead us to believe that is the case, mutters of civil war, negation of free speech, a rise of cultural Marxism, all sorts of things happening all around the same time that are making people upset. The men are the problem feminists say, the whites are the problem some say, white males who are heterosexual are the problem, someone other than the one complaining is at fault for how things are. Yet things are pretty good, all things considered.

Then C19 hit. A virus that spread quickly and killed old and young, and those whose health is bad. It was global, and the government's had no idea what to do. Lock down was called. People had been, mostly, keeping at home, loss of jobs was stress, lack of freedom was stress. It had only been a few months, but people were TIRED of being stuck inside, they demanded freedom, protesting in numbers. Not a wise idea. A giant bee that kills other bees was around, and oh right, a black person had been killed by the police.

Uh oh.

So we see again, riots. I'm not sure where the hero's are out there, the protests grow, people have forgotten or perhaps do not care about C19 now, they are ANGRY they are MAD, justice was not done, again! How many blacks have been killed by whites anyway? If it was the other way around and a black man had killed a white man, there would be lynching right? Justice — what a joke.

Or so some believed. Why? Oh, many reasons, BLM did not help anything. Spouting a false narrative that blacks are dispositional harmed to whites, that everything is about race. (studies contradict such narrative but who cares about data), and lo — its history repeating. On a new cycle. Yet, people will pack up at some point, as they always do, something else will distract them and bother them. C19 might take a few of them out. No one can know what will happen next for sure, yet I do think that its madness.

I reflect on how wrong the Rodney King beating was, and yet, how it was not about race, and it was not. It was an abuse of power, but the narrative has changed, every time anyone that is black is harmed, it is because of race. No idea when that happened, but that seems to be what we are being told, or telling our own self's. I do not believe it, because the data says otherwise.

It should not be about the color of our skin. It should always be about doing the right thing. About being the hero, not the villain. If you want to protest, do it like Marten Luther King Jr. there was a man that knew how to lead, how to speak, and how to protest properly to make a lasting change. His dream came true, well... sort of. Segregation ended, but then became self-imposed. Opportunities  opened, but people took the wrong paths. I do not know why, I can not pretend to have the answers to what was, or to say what will be or even what should be.

I can just look at it, as all of you can and sigh and ponder when the madness will end, oh also its getting hotter all over the world and that is changing weather like crazy, so there is that as well.
Bleep me. We really need some hero's. Some brave people to step forward from the dark, to speak just and right into this void. To say kindly, yet firmly (X) is wrong, yet we will not do wrong, we will do right. To bravely face hate with love. To fight war with peace. Oh for those brave hero's, wherever they might be, I long for them.

Yet, here I am, wondering who will save us all, could I be that person? Could I get up and speak?

Could you?

Well, last time no one did anything to change things it went badly... so maybe, just maybe we will learn from the madness of the past.

Yet, here we are, repeating it all the same.

Madness.