On May 25, 2020, the world as we knew it changed. On this day, we all bore witness to the killing of George Floyd by police officer Derek Chauvin, who knelt on Floyd’s neck for nearly nine minutes. For nearly nine minutes we saw George Floyd scream in agony as life slowly left his body. For nearly nine minutes we saw Chauvin’s fellow police officers standby with an insanely misdirected commitment to ‘controlling’ the outrage of the crowd as opposed to regulating their own colleague. It was traumatic. It was cold. It was ruthless, and it was deeply unsettling.

Although we had seen similar instances to this in the past, this felt unequivocally different. Somehow, this felt profoundly personal, and not just to myself, but to millions of people around the world who sobbed, screamed, and spoke as if Floyd was their father, brother, or son. This time, the repercussions were immense. How? The very next day thousands gathered in Minneapolis to express their outrage and pain through protest—shouting “Justice for George Floyd,” “Black Lives Matter,” and “I can’t breathe.” This was followed by countless protests across the world as people from all races harmonized their voices and unified to fight against systemic racism and police brutality. It went from feeling different to being different. The trauma, pain, and emotional fatigue materialized in a way I had never witnessed before; they bubbled for years under the surface until they ruptured and could no longer be contained. We couldn’t be contained. And not we as in just Black people; but we, as in anyone, irrespective of race, creed, or sexuality who has fought against oppression. We, as in anyone who recognizes systemic flaws and desires change, but doesn’t stop at simply desiring it; in their own way—regardless of how small it is—they aid in creating it.

We saw this on June 6, 2020; it was estimated that half a million people joined protests in 550 places across the US. These protests continued for over a month, having taken place in over 2000 cities and towns in all 50 states and over 60 countries. Over a year later I look and see that we haven’t stopped; and we can’t, because if we truly desire an egalitarian society, we must continue to evolve from what currently is.

So, I’ll say it again. This was different; and I want to emphasize this. Here, the killing of George Floyd sent shock waves throughout the world. The earth trembled as our boots marched through the streets; incumbents, institutions, and political structures quaked as we lifted our voices in unison. And our voices, our screams, our cries, echoed and echoed through the wind until we saw something: impact. What is this impact? Being over a year removed from the killing of Floyd, we’ve seen in many cases an earnest desire to be better educated on racism. We’ve seen an increase in Black-led groups, elevated support for Black businesses, and heightened awareness around Black issues; and we’ve seen a renewed commitment by policymakers to address systemic racism and police brutality.

On June 12, 2020, six days after these mass protests, one of the most moving and thought-provoking responses to the death of George Floyd was released. On this day, Dave Chappelle released a special called “8:46”, addressing George Floyd’s death, police brutality, and the ongoing protests at the time. If you haven’t already, I encourage you to watch it. This timely and critical analysis of the events at the time presents a sobering perspective to the conversation of police brutality and the BLM movement. With its impact on the world, and Chappelle’s ability to disrupt the culture through honesty and some satire, I counted it necessary to discuss the critical elements of this special in relation to our conversation on BLM. 

When I began to watch the special, I was unsure of what it would be about. The title “8:46” served as rather ambiguous, and to my mind, it failed to provide context as to the direction that the special would take. Nonetheless, Chappelle began his special speaking about a horrifying experience he had. He recalled how in the 90’s (he couldn’t remember the exact year) he was visiting Los Angeles—lounging around at his home, watching a movie about the apocalypse around 4 a.m. This casual and relaxed night took a drastic turn just 30 minutes later, as around 4:30 a.m. he remembered feeling an earthquake, one so massive that he was positive he was going to die. He later learned that this was the Northridge earthquake. Chappelle said that where he was from earthquakes never happened, and in the moment, it was so traumatic that he made a promise to himself that he wouldn’t scream, just so that if he did survive, he wouldn’t recall himself being vocally terrified. From his recollection, this earthquake couldn’t have lasted more than 35 seconds. Due to his uncertainly I decided to do some research to validate his claims. I found that the Northridge earthquake was in 1994 and lasted for 10-20 seconds.

It’s astounding how human perception of space and time during traumatizing events magnifies the experience. It tends to be the case that our perception of time in these scenarios is drawn out, causing us to believe things were longer or worse than they actually were. 35 seconds is what Dave said; but in actuality, it was 10-20 seconds. For 10-20 seconds he was discombobulated and felt like he was going to die. Picture that; and now picture Floyd’s perception of time as he laid on the ground in agony, because for 8 minutes and 46 seconds—what very well may have felt like an eternity to Floyd—he screamed and pleaded as Chauvin casually knelt on his neck despite clear evidence that the he was in dire pain as result of his actions. Up until this point I remained clueless as to what 8:46 signified. But then it became clear; it represented the amount of time it took for life to fully leave George Floyd’s body.

When Chappelle compared his experience during the earthquake, his 10-20 seconds, to the 8 minutes and 46 seconds that Chauvin spent pressing his knee into Floyd’s neck, killing him, he said he couldn’t imagine being in that position for that long. He couldn’t imagine being terrified—vocally screaming for his dead mother. Why would someone call out for their dead mother you ask? Well, Chappelle resolved that he knew he was going to die. He knew he couldn’t breathe. He knew that receiving mercy in this position was idealistic and fantastical; and he knew that police officers and the Black community were largely at odds. And so, his last moments were spent screaming and watching Derek Chauvin’s fellow police officers, Thomas Lane, Tou Thao, and J. Alexander Kueng, stand by with their hands in their pockets as he died, in part, due to their lack of desire to intervene. I’ve found this to be baffling. It truly baffles me that they were unwilling to exercise compassion and humanity when the situation was clearly under control. It baffles me that his cries fell on deaf ears for nearly nine minutes, and as a result, Floyd stopped breathing with two minutes left in the video. He laid there, motionless in the street as Chauvin continued to press his knee into his neck.

On June 1st, the medical examiners final findings indicated that Floyd’s heart stopped while he was being restrained and ultimately ruled his death a homicide. Not only did the knee on his neck kill him, but it was also because of the two officers who pinned him down by applying pressure on his back. To this Chappelle said, “Who do you think you are, to think that this would happen and you wouldn’t feel the wrath of God?