Some of us can't breathe.

I've held off sharing my thoughts on the racial crisis to let others more directly impacted speak first. I just sent this email message through my constituent list and wanted to share it here.

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A couple of weeks after COVID-19 began spreading quickly through America, I saw a social media post that, I assume, was meant to be empathetic.

It said something which we hear quite often, about how "we're all in the same boat together."

In response, someone posted a message that was profound.

The response said, "no, we may all be in the same storm, but we're not all in the same boat."

The second statement was meant to point out a fact which is obvious, but is too often overlooked -- that although people might face the same crisis, different people will come out of it differently, depending on their unique circumstance.

Even though a deadly virus by itself does not discriminate, there clearly are differences in who becomes exposed and who are more likely to die as a result of being seriously infected.

As more data became available, we soon learned that African American, Latino American, Asian American, Native American, and low-income/unskilled workers were infected and ultimately died from COVID-19 at a much higher rate than their proportional presence within our cities or states.

What explains this huge and unfair discrepancy is the fact that so many of our Black and Brown fellow Americans and those in the lower socio-economic status are the most "essential" workers, whose jobs expose them to physical contact with lots of people.

Many of these workers don't have the luxury of staying safe and quarantined at home with extra savings in the bank, nor do they hold jobs that allow remote work through video.

So, yes, we are not all in the same boat.

As America deals with a different pandemic in the middle of an ongoing pandemic, I think this same lesson must be remembered.

Unlike the public health storm that's hit us for the past 12 weeks, this other one has been ravaging in America for 400 years.

The racial inequities that remain and persist in most of our institutions and systems today have roots that are traced directly to discriminatory attitudes of, and public policies adopted by, Americans generations ago.

Some would say that the belief in white supremacy that spawned our nation's original sin of slavery has never disappeared, and, instead, only moved underground, as more "enlightened" generations came forward over the past few decades.

So, today, we live in a nation where we may all be in the same atmosphere, but we're not all breathing the same air.

Some of our fellow Americans breathe clean and crisp air in a rarefied atmosphere that fills our lungs, heads, and pockets with health, peace, and prosperity.

Some of our fellow Americans breathe sullied and polluted air in factories and carbon producing projects that escape the scrutiny of regulatory enforcement and environmental justice.

Some of our fellow Americans breathe tear gas and pepper spray emitted by those we entrust to wear the uniform of public safety or national defense.

And some of our fellow Americans can't breathe at all.

They can't breathe because COVID-19 infected them while they were cutting up our bacon and chicken breasts, packing our groceries, delivering our Amazon products, cleaning transit stations, or even working on a ventilator to help a fellow American breathe.

They can't breathe because they are worried about paying for rent and food while forced inside a crowded apartment with family and relatives, with no schools to attend or jobs to show up to, and eagerly awaiting their unemployment claims to process.

They can't breathe because they suffocate from depression, mental health episodes, suicidal thoughts, substance addiction, or domestic violence.

And they can't breathe because somebody took their last breath away.

Oscar Grant couldn't breathe eleven years ago.

Trayvon Martin couldn't breathe eight years ago.

Eric Garner couldn't breathe six years ago.

Tamir Rice couldn't breathe six years ago.

Michael Brown, Jr., couldn't breathe six years ago.

Sandra Bland couldn't breathe five years ago.

Walter Scott couldn't breathe five years ago.

Samuel DuBose couldn't breathe five years ago.

Philando Castile couldn't breathe four years ago.

Terence Crutcher couldn't breathe four years ago.

. . .

Ahmaud Arbery couldn't breathe in February.

Breonna Taylor couldn't breathe in March.

. . .

And George Floyd couldn't breathe last month.

. . .

But if you can read this, you can breathe.

And if you can breathe, you can speak.

And if you can speak, you can be the voice for these and for thousands of other African Americans throughout our history who cannot speak for themselves from their graves dug by injustice.

Please breathe.

For them.

For justice.

#BlackLivesMatter