"THE NEW NORMAL"
for Ms. Kim and Ms. Maday
by Rufus West, #225213
November18, 2016
for Ms. Kim and Ms. Maday
by Rufus West, #225213
November18, 2016
Bismillah
Jr Rahman Jr Rahim
(In the name of God, the Most Gracious, Most Merciful)
(In the name of God, the Most Gracious, Most Merciful)
I want to begin with a
parable called "The Perfect Heart."
One day a young man was standing in the middle of the town
proclaiming that he had the most beautiful heart in the whole valley. A large
crowd gathered and they all admired his heart, for it was perfect. There was
not a mark or flaw in it. Yes, they all agreed it truly was the most beautiful
heart they had ever seen. The young man was very proud and boasted more loudly
about his beautiful heart.
Suddenly, an
old man appeared at the front of the crowd and said, "Why, your heart is
not nearly as beautiful as mine." The crowd and the young man looked at
the old man's heart. It was beating strongly; but full of scars; it had places
where pieces had been removed and other pieces put in, but they didn't fit
quite right, and there were several jagged edges. In fact, in some places there
were deep gouges where whole pieces were missing.
The
peopled stared—how can he say his heart is more beautiful?, they thought. The
young man looked at the old man's heart and saw its state and laughed.
"You must be joking," he said. "Compare your heart with mine;
mine is perfect and yours is a mess of scars and tears."
"Yes," said the old man, 'Yours is
perfect looking but I would never trade with you. You see, every scar
represents a person to whom I have given my love—I tear out a piece of my heart
and give it to them, and often they give me a piece of their heart which fits
into the empty place in my heart, but because the pieces aren't exact, I have
some rough edges, which I cherish, because they remind me of the love we
shared. Sometimes I have given pieces of my heart away and the other person
hasn't returned a piece of his heart to me. These are the empty gouges—giving
love is taking a chance.
Although
these gouges are painful, they stay open, reminding me of the love I have for
those people too, and I hope someday they may return and fill the space I have
waiting. So now do you see what true beauty is?"
The young man stood
silently with his tears running down his cheeks. He walked up to the old man,
reached into his perfect young and beautiful heart, and ripped a piece out. He
offered it to the old man with trembling hands. The old man took his offering, placed
it in his heart and then took a piece from his old, scarred heart and placed it
in the wound in the young man's heart. It fit, but not perfectly, as there were
some jagged edges. The young man looked at his heart, not perfect anymore, but
more beautiful than ever, since love from the old man's heart flowed into his.
In 2008, when the survivors shared their
experiences with me I listened with my ears while shielding my heart. Many of
us who have been exposed to incessant crimes in the ghetto, learn from the cradle
that our environment is not abnormal—but normal. In fact, I was taught that any
period of days without crime was not normal. This psychological indoctrination
or brainwashing took root deep within me as a child easily, considering the
overwhelming exposure. Surely, children are like wet cement... whatever lands
on them makes an impression.
The photos of my
son that you will soon hold in your hands will forever be my new normal. The challenge
for me is not to allow it to swallow me up, thereby resulting in my spiritual
demise. So, I hold on to the Rope of Allah, not with one hand—but with both
hands like the frog holding on to the neck of the bird trying to swallow it.
With every fiber of my being, I
believe that everything ultimately happens by Allah's Will, and that Him
allowing me to meet Ms. Kim and Ms. Maday, and experience this three-day
Restorative Justice experience is a blessing and has been very therapeutic for
me because I don't know how to let someone know that I need to get something
off my chest. I know that listening to their heartfelt experiences has softened
my heart towards them more because the murder of my son has resurrected my
ability to empathize more from the heart—which still feels like it's laying at
my feet, shattered in a zillion pieces as I endeavor to pick up every piece.
Sharing your heartfelt experiences with me has helped mend my heart in ways
that I'm unable to articulate. For that, alone, I am grateful. Even if I never
see ya'll again I want ya'll to know that I extend apiece of my heart to ya'll
and pray that Allah will continue to allow you to not only share your
experiences—but also guide you in your new normal.
In closing, I
would like to share a piece with you that I wrote:
"Nine Months to Make: A Second to
Take.":
Sitting
here ruminating on the time span that it takes to create a baby. About nine
months is the expected time span from conception until the baby is actually
born. Within that period, however, the child's limbs, organs, fingerprints,
intellect, everything is being created. Meanwhile, the mother carries the child
inside of her cradle of humanity, which stretches dramatically to accommodate
the tiny person being created inside of her. Consequently, the mother
experiences physical and psychological changes that the father is unable to
imagine. Actually, the father is spared these changes that the mother endures!
The mother experiences the pain
of contractions, and pushing her child into this world through a hole in her
body about 10 centimeters round. Meanwhile, the father is awe-struck, yet duped
into believing that he is actually helping by repeatedly telling her to
"Push!" when she already knows to "Push!" (Bless his heart.)
Newborn babies are nurtured by their mother, while the father looks on in
amazement at the human beings that his drop of liquid helped create after nine
months.
While it takes nine months (i.e. 275 days, or 6,000 hours, or 396,000
minutes, or 23,760,000 seconds) to birth a child into this world, it only takes
one second to kill the child. The obvious disproportionate comparisons
associated in this context should appeal to the instinctive nature and sanity of
humanity and galvanize us as a human race to abstain from killing each other.
Self preservation is mankind's second Law of Nature.
On June 3, 2016, my son, Richard West
Gray, was assassinated. I didn't find out about it until July 1, 2016. That
same bullet that killed him literally killed a part of me and his mother.
Having said that, it's impossible to ignore the myriad of unjustified deaths
that have resulted from mass shootings, cop killings, killings of cops, and the
fact that the number one cause of death for Black men between the ages of 18
and 35 is homicide. Likewise, it's also impossible to ignore the thousands of
unjustified deaths that have resulted from bombs, chemical warfare, stabbings,
etc. Every person killed adversely affects the person's parents. Every person
killed is somebody's child who took about nine months to birth. And while I'll
be the first one to point out that the Black man's death rate is
disproportionate in comparison to White men when it comes to homicide, I will
also be the first one to widen the lens in order to point out that senseless
killings are a human tragedy, not exclusively a Black one. The very word
"human' is all inclusive as 'hue' covers every shade of mankind's skin
complexion. Thus, as a human race, each person must shoulder his or her
individual responsibility of self-control in order to protect humanity from
one's insanity. To do otherwise would be irresponsible and uncivilized.
My name is
Rufus West and I approve this message.
