Breonna Taylor and Me

Introduction: Breonna Taylor and Me: Black Women, Racial Justice, and Reclaiming Hope

The pivotal role of Black women in American history is unequivocal though severely underappreciated and underrecognized. Indeed, Black women’s contributions, sacrifices, and influences permeate nearly every aspect of our society and most of the world, as evidenced in and around 2020. Among many others making noteworthy contributions during this time frame, women of African descent would come to the forefront, such as Dr. Kizzmekia Corbett in COVID-19 vaccine research, Uganda climate activist Vanessa Nakate, Vice President Kamala Harris, LaTosha Brown of “Black Voters Matter” or the tireless elections work of Stacey Abrams in Georgia. The year 2020 characterized an era when these Black women truly shined in what may be considered a Summer of Reckoning, all while in the grip of a pandemical lockdown. Throughout the nation and, in fact, the globe, reactions to George Floyd’s death were characterized by demonstrations, affirmations, and calls for social justice. The video of his tragic murder became the primary catalyst, as it showed a corrupt police officer defiantly staring at a camera while kneeling for over nine minutes on the handcuffed, Black man’s neck. Many do not realize that a young, Black woman, then 17-year-old Darnella Frazier, filmed Floyd’s murder, forever scarring her and the millions of people who viewed the footage. Without that film, most argue, there would have been no conviction, much less the international movements that followed.

Whereas Floyd came to symbolize systematic racism and institutionalized violence, especially against people of color, the absence of coverage of another Black person’s death, Breonna Taylor – which occurred months earlier also in 2020 and similarly at the hands of the police – further illuminates the marginalization, erasure, or omission of Black women in racial, social, and political contexts. It was not until months after George Floyd’s assassination that an international uproar encompassed Breonna’s plight, even prompting billboards and advertisements from prominent figures such as Oprah Winfrey and numerous other dignitaries. Eventually, Breonna Taylor’s image graced the cover of O The Oprah Magazine and Vanity Fair, as well as murals in parks and public places. Initially, however, the officers involved were not charged.

When African American lives are lost at the hands of the police or implicitly endorsed by authorities, too often, the names that are remembered are only those of the men. Invisible No More by Andrea Ritchie is described by Angela Davis as a book that “challenges us to acknowledge the human dimension of this violence, which should not be effaced in abstract statistical accounts.” (x) Ritchie, the author and principal investigator in the work, provides the following observations in her text’s Introduction:

Pulled over in a traffic stop and beaten by the side of the road. Placed in a banned choke hold by a New York City police officer. Violently taken into police custody, never to come out alive. Shot first, questions asked later.

The stories and images that immediately leap to mind in connection with these scenes are those of Black men – Rodney King, Eric Garner, Freddie Gray, and Philando Castile.

But these are also the stories of Black women. (1)¹

In many ways, Breonna Taylor and Me: Black Women, Racial Justice, and Reclaiming Hope builds on the work of Ritchie, as well as Audre Lourde’s Sister Outsider, a compilation of essays and speeches initially published in 1984 though still extremely relevant today. Lourde argues, “Each one of us here is a link in the connection between antipoor legislation, gay shootings, the burning of synagogues, street harassment, attacks against women, and resurgent violence against Black people.” (139) The tragedy that marks Breonna Taylor’s killing and other Black women like her deserves to be recognized, humanized, and memorialized.

The following collection centers on the experiences of Black women, celebrates the efforts and accomplishments of Black female leaders in the movements for positive social change, critiques established norms regarding the treatment of women of African descent around the globe, and encourages hope in a world of systemic racial oppression. Nikole Hannah-Jones’ profoundly informative work in The 1619 Project, which also gives voice to Breonna Taylor’s plight, underscores the importance of Black social justice in general. She states, “Black rights struggles paved the way for every other rights struggle, including women’s and gay rights, immigrant and disability rights.” (11) Later, Jones adds the following: “The truth is that as much democracy as this nation has today, it has been borne on the backs of Black resistance and visions for equality.” (33) Likewise, writer and CNN White House correspondent April Ryan had the audacity to title her book, Black Women Will Save the World and then had the perspicacity to support her argument with facts.²

The title Breonna Taylor and Me additionally pays homage to the progress achieved thanks to the #MeToo movement, popularized by another African American woman, Tarana Burke. Though the events surrounding Breonna Taylor may not constitute sexual violence, they do pertain to violence, nevertheless. Furthermore, in terms of the treatment of Black women, The 1619 Project highlights a 2001 review of prosecutorial decisions in sexual-assault cases in Kansas City and Philadelphia, finding that prosecutors were 4.5 times more likely to file if the victim is white as opposed to if the victim is Black; if the plaintiff is Black there is a better chance of acquittal for the accused, and if convicted, receiving a lighter sentence. In that region, only 1 in 15 Black women report being assaulted. The writers conclude, “Many Black women and girls see the criminal legal system as offering little recourse for the sexual violence they experience.” (Roberts 58) Violence is violence, and the pain can transcend generations. However, as Audre Lourde states, “Pain is an event, an experience that must be recognized, named, and then used in some way in order for the experience to change, to be transformed into something else, strength or knowledge or action.” (171)

The scholars in Breonna Taylor and Me come from a variety of disciplines to create transformative research, knowledge, and action. In the first part, political scientist Athena M. King argues that Breonna Taylor’s murder at the hands of law enforcement indicates the political system’s general ignorance toward African American women’s needs, concerns, and voices. Historian Aaron Treadwell and educator Bisola A. Wald articulate many foundational underpinnings surrounding violence against African American women. Africana Studies scholar Emmanuel Harris II reaffirms that Breonna Taylor’s life matters as he outlines relevant aspects of her upbringing, character, and untimely death.

While centering on the 2020 Summer of Reckoning, the second part expands on the effects of Breonna Taylor’s tragedy. It contains two educators: Julia Lynch, who depicts a poetic narrative qualitative study that explores the lived experiences of Black women teachers in rural northern United States during a national (re) awakening, and Keryn Vickers, who explains the groundwater or systemic issues that give rise to events like the one in Louisville as he also humanizes those who were involved, including individuals in law enforcement. Meanwhile, social work scholar Tiffany Lane advocates for her co-disciplinarians to remain present to have critical conversations related to the intersection of race and gender. Additionally, anthropologist and African American Studies specialist Kimberly Eison Simmons presents a reflective chapter that explores coursework assignments and discussions with students about “Black Lives Matter” while contemplating the historical and contemporary racialized experiences of Black people in the United States, particularly Black women. In another chapter by Harris, he highlights the 2020 publication of Puerto Rican writer and activist Yolanda Arroyo Pizarro as an exemplary, feminist literary creation that celebrates afroamor or Black love.

The third and final part builds from the previous two and presents some of the legacies of Black women while emphasizing respect, empowerment, and hope. The political scientist pracademic (practitioner and academician) Angela Y. Douglas uses Breonna Taylor’s death and a few notable cases and settlements to highlight ideological connections in devaluing Black women – visibility, activism, and accountability. That same visibility and awareness may be applied to Afro-Uruguayan writer and linguist Cristina Cabral as she internationalizes the importance of Black sisterhood in the African diaspora. The historian Louis L. Woods complements Cabral’s essay by making the international quite personal, allowing us to be privy to an open letter to his daughters. Part III also contains two chapters that reaffirm hope. In their chapter, the educator team of Sheka Houston and Tammy Taylor propose to interrupt the narrative around the adultification of Black girls and focus on how embracing our deep Africana heritage can change the trajectory of these young ladies on their journey to becoming productive and successful women. Public health specialist Sabrina T. Cherry emphasizes the importance of intentionally seeking opportunities to foster hope, joy, and community amid the dual pandemics of COVID-19 and persistent racial and gender injustice.

This collection of scholarly writings, in many ways, builds on the words, wisdom, and works of the ancestors and the elders as it centers the life of Breonna Taylor. We let the words of sister Maya Angelou in Letters to My Daughter bring us home:

When I find myself filling with rage of the loss of a beloved, I try as soon as possible to remember that my concerns and questions should be focused on what I have learned or what I have yet to learn from my departed love. What legacy was left which can help me in the art of living a good life?