Whose Lives Matter? A Parable.

By Kathy Uphaus

A number of mothers are in deep grieving over a lost child. 

One child died suddenly in a car accident that left his father hospitalized with minor injuries. 

Another died after an agonizing eight, plus or minus, minutes, literally under the knee of a bored-looking police officer. 

Another died because a distracted police officer entered the wrong apartment and shot him, immediately and without further inquiry, assuming he was an intruder. 

Another died in her bed, shot by police officers who had entered her apartment, looking for a man who did not even live there and had, in fact, already been apprehended. 

One might say that death chose the first child. The deaths of the others were, in a very real sense, chosen by the whims of an insensitive, undisciplined, unconsciously (or perhaps consciously) racist police.

Did all these lives matter? Of course. Do some of them matter more, because of the way they speak to our moral sense, our humanity, the kind of society we would want our children to be nurtured by? I think the answer is obvious to anyone with a conscience.

Bill Fuller

Bill Fuller

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