Your story is my story

In one of the first blog posts I wrote, I noted the graffiti here. I remarked that it attempts to write their existence and tell their story. At first blush, I knew that this wasn’t just a juvenile attempt to deface some buildings; even though I’m sure that sometimes is the case. The street art I see candidly comments on political topics, highlights happiness and underscores agony.

Decades ago, when rap was introduced to mainstream culture, many people saw it as disrespectful diatribe and negative noise as opposed to poetry of a pained people. Today, although it still has its detractors and is sometimes the embodiment of the those negatives, people realize rap also holds up a mirror of shards of communal truths despite how ugly we think it may be.

I think graffiti is very much like that. In a city so big, sometimes voices tend not to be heard until they are raised. Sometimes, raging against the machine forces the machine to reconsider some of its mechanics. Like rap, the art of graffiti provides an outlet for an oppressed, affected and often forgotten people.

A week ago, I went on a graffiti tour. The gentleman who led the tour, a local graffiti artist himself, shared the stories of the other artists as well as the meaning of some of their work. Because graffiti is no longer illegal here (it’s only punishable by a fine) many local artists make the walls of Bogota their canvas.

We walked for 3 hours downtown looking at various pieces. It truly is like a free art gallery with some of the most talented artists I’ve ever seen.

He warned us to keep up so that we didn’t have to miss anything. And, if he every reads this, sir, I’m sorry. I was the wayward child who turned corners to take photos of other works. I was the one who zoned out and got lost in my own interpretations of what was being depicted.

The mark of a great artist is the ability to cause others to reconsider their ideas, consider others in their ideas and provoke thought. That was definitely done.

I could (and probably will) write independent posts on some of these pieces. I originally intended this blog to be about the depth of their artistry. But I feel compelled to share another story. Still, I encourage you to take a look at the album I’ve attached below. It’s amazing what these people create. And many do so freehand and without a stencil. To see their work is to bow before an actual artist, not to scold a vandal.

The story of Diego Felipe Becerra is a story that tags the heart of local street artists. Bear with me as I share this story. Like many injustices, the road is windy with many diversions.

Becerra, a 16-year-old grafitero was shot and killed by Colombian officers in 2011. Among many other things, he is fondly remembered for his signature tag of the smiling Felix the Cat.

On a night just 4 years ago, he and 2 friends travelled down a street intending to graffiti a few walls. At the time, the laws were much more harsh than they are now.

According to a friend who accompanied him that night, as they were preparing to paint, they were approached by police officers. They, in youthful ignorance, began to run. They wanted to avoid time in jail and/or other punishments. Becerra’s friend said he heard the shot and turned to his friend behind him. He recalled hearing his friend say he couldn’t feel his legs. Becerra, despite medical personnel attempting to revive him for several minutes, died on his way to the hospital.

So that’s the side of the story as told by another 16 year old. And, because we’ve all been 16 before, you can understand why shadows of doubt were cast upon the details of said story.

But here is what was released by law enforcement. The officers responded to reports of an armed bus robbery. Becerra was shot because the officer feared the youth was going to shoot him.

Other facts that were later released are as follows:

• Becerra was not found with any weapons.

• Despite the fact that one of the other two alleged assailants rode with the police/medical personnel to the hospital, none of the suspects were arrested.

• No passengers were found to confirm the bus robbery reports.

• The only person to identify Becerra was the bus driver. But he did so only after Becerra’s photo was printed in the newspaper the following day.

• Becerra was shot twice in the back.

So, does any of this sound familiar? Do any of these facts ring a bell?

Miles away, the same stories of Walter Scott and Justus Howell are being written. And dreary fates are being etched in the blood of our fellow citizens. Snap judgments are being made about people and those judgments are costing people their lives. Lives that have the unlimited potential make this world better. Lives that matter.

Now, before we begin to sing a litany of their faults to a melody of “they shouldn’t have run’s,” take the time to think of this. Given what is only just now being publicized of trigger-happy police officers, how would you react? Imagine being taught and shown that the police are there to protect and serve people who don’t look like you. Would you not flee in fear?

Colombian walls now pay homage to Becerra. Artists draw his likeness. Memes are found on Facebook with his picture and kind words. And even other walls warn people not to turn their back on the police. Because eyes are now constantly on the police as an air of mistrust surrounds them, I can't help but liken this to Trayvon Martin.

To throw salt in the wound, when Justin Bieber, young and rich, visited Bogota, he was not only guarded but also escorted while he left his own graffiti tag. This angered the street artist community and sparked protests by many artists and their supporters.

It’s funny how the same story ends differently for some characters.

I’ve often said every story deserves to be told and heard. That’s what motivates me to tell my own.

But what I learned this week is that all of our stories are validated by their common threads.

Often, Black Americans speak of the amount of lynchings in the South but they neglect to talk about the thousands of Mexican-Americans who were also lynched. Struggle is not relegated to one group, race, religion, etc.

So often, when atrocities occur, each group responds to them individually because we have failed to acknowledge them collectively. In doing so, we are remiss in honoring not only our differences but also our similarities. How can we expect a multi-racial, multi-ethnic, multi-religion group of people to stand together when only generations before we were standing on each other’s necks?

The graffitid walls of Bogota remind me that my story is not the only one being written. They remind me that I have a choice to actively and positively participate in the stories of others. They implore me to do so because, if not, the same stories will continue until the wrongs are forced right.

What happens in America happens in Colombia. What happens to you happens to me.

Pain is an epidemic for which we all hold the cure should we choose to employ it. In the end, your story is my story. And I choose to not only help you write it, but I also choose to help you right it.

#diegofelipebecerra #colombia #janelle #policebrutality