Malcolm X got it right: ‘That’s not a chip on my shoulder; that’s your foot on my neck.’

It has happened again. Another black man killed at the hands of a police officer, who pressed his knee against the man’s neck until he stopped breathing. Some of his last words were, “I can’t breathe…”

When I learned of this latest violence against a black person at the hands of a white police officer, I almost felt like I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to scream and cry. Loud and hard. But while I knew the screaming and crying might have made me feel a bit better, it would not remove the problem of bigotry. It would not be the solution.

On Aug. 4, Training Force USA and the Boynton Beach Police Department will present a seminar, “Policing and Serving in the 21st Century.”

According to information from the Training Force, “The law enforcement profession has changed since the events in Ferguson and Baltimore. The final report of the President’s Task force on 21st Century Policing points out how the mission of law enforcement is “to build trust between citizens and law enforcement so that all components of a community are treating one another fairly and justly and are invested in maintaining public safety in an atmosphere of mutual respect.”

The seminar is coming months too late for victims like 25-year-old Ahmaud Arbery, 26-year-old Breonna Taylor and now, 46-year-old George Floyd.

As a mother of sons, I spent most of their growing up years teaching them to respect authority — the law, in particular. I wanted them to grow up respectful and I told them if they respected the law, the law would respect them (in my heart I prayed that I was right).

When they grew up and were old enough to date, I stayed up while they were out, worrying about them if they were only 15 minutes past their curfew, or until I heard the key turn in the front door lock.

As youngsters, they couldn’t see the danger that I, and every black parent I knew, could see.

We knew the danger was out there, waiting to rob them of their youth and even their life. Some of us had relatives who had felt the burn of the fire of racism. It had left them hanging from a tree, strung up by a white-hooded lynch mob. Today, the lynch mob wears a different uniform. And, too often, a badge.

My older son Rick (now deceased) always tried my patience. I used to tell him, “Whenever you are going to be late coming home, just call me to let me know you are safe.”

Being the “big” man that he was to his friends, he didn’t want them to know he had to report to his mom. I told him, “Just tell your friends you have a crazy mom. ... I don’t care how you make me look. I need to know you are OK.”

Rick and his younger brother couldn’t see the danger. Neither could their friends.

So, we parents preached to them and prayed for them. We told them, “If you are ever stopped by the police for anything, don’t ask questions. Just do as they say, thus escaping a beating because you were ‘resisting’ arrest.”

Somehow Rick, his brother and his friends weathered the racist storm that poured down on African Americans — more so on African-American men. It is the same storm that I weathered. That my mom and dad weathered. That their parents before them weathered.

And still it pours.

While there have been breaks in the storms, in spite of it all, African Americans have made some great strides in this country, and indeed, in the world. These accomplishments have allowed the sun to shine brightly on us from time to time.

Yet, we can never let our guards down. The same old clouds of racism and hatred still lurk nearby. And it can rain on us at any given time, no matter the circumstances.

As a faith-living Christian who believes in treating everyone the way I want to be treated, I often think about the duty of those of us who say we believe in the teaching of Jesus Christ. And I am appalled at the number of white Christians who are willing to stand silently by and watch such Godless atrocities happen to their African-American brothers and sisters.

My friends, we are living in perilous times. We are faced with sickness and more deaths than I have seen in my lifetime, thanks to COVID-19. Natural disasters, unemployment and seemingly endless food lines. Homelessness and drive-by shootings.

What is it going to take for us to wake up, to know we don’t have to live this way? Some might say this is an angry column. Still, I have tried to write without bitterness or having a chip on my shoulder.

But as the late Malcolm X once said, “That’s not a chip on my shoulder; that’s your foot on my neck.”

And it’s snuffing the very breath out of me.

Two students earn scholarships from Eta Phi Beta Sorority

Congratulations to Majesty Wooden, a graduate of Barbara Goldman Senior High, and Toniyah Ashanti Washington, a graduate of Miami Killian High School, who were awarded scholarships from the Eta Phi Beta Sorority.

Wooden, who will attend Florida Atlantic University, was awarded the Betty Jane Gaitor Timmons Memorial Scholarship. Washington was awarded the Doris Postel Memorial scholarship, and will attend Wilberforce University.

This story was originally published May 29, 2020 at 6:00 AM.