When an 11-year-old girl is struck by a stray bullet while playing video games in her father's basement, I want a SWAT team to swoop down on the neighborhood and go door-to-door looking for the shooter.
I want police to put up road blocks and search every car until they find the person who cared so little about his own life and the lives of others that he fired a weapon on the street.
I also want to distance myself from such an evil human being.
But I can't.
Truth is, every time I am confronted with the horrible things black people can do to other black people, I'm filled with anger and shame. I doubt whites feel that way about white serial killers.
For all the ranting and raving about blacks commiting most of the violent crimes, the reality is the majority of the victims of those violent crimes are black.
Darian Shellie, the North Chicago girl, who was killed Sunday night when a bullet shattered the only window in her father's basement, is one of three young black girls murdered this year by random gunfire. In March, Siretha White, 10 and Starkesia Reed, 14, were killed nine days apart on the South Side.
As noted in a lot of the posts on this blog, this is a dilemma for black people. This war for the souls and bodies of our children is being fought on our streets.
Some white people (like Jerry) can boast that they don't live in black neighborhoods and they don't care about what goes on there. But if you are black, you can't really distance yourself from the 'hood. More than likely--even if you live in Wilmette-- you may have a cousin or aunt, an old friend or a grandmother who still call troubled areas home.
Can group identity ever be anything other than a burden?