That day and the night before

So this is not about the flag after all, as we always suspected. It is not about the flag or the anthem or "the troops" after all, not about the appropriateness or inappropriateness of using the framework of a football or basketball game as a vehicle of protest.

This is, and always was, about what the protests are about.

Racial inequality. The killing of Black people in situations where they shouldn't be getting killed. That sort of thing.

The people who say they'll never watch another NFL game unless those players get off their knees aren't saying that because they love the flag or the anthem or 'Merica. They're doing it because they don't think Black people have a legitimate gripe and should just shut up about it. 

I know this because last night in Kansas City, after the anthem and the flag and all that, both the Houston Texans and Kansas City Chiefs met at midfield and stood arm-in-arm with one another, a gesture of unity in these fractious times. And the scattered fans in attendance booed them.

Booed unity. Not "disrespecting" the flag or 'Merica, because the players weren't. They booed unity: Black men and white men joining arms in a time of pain for America, but mostly for Americans of color.

I don't know how anyone with a scrap of human decency could do that. Especially now. Especially just a few hours before the planes flew into the buildings 19 years ago, and America knew pain and loss in a way that was utterly foreign to it.

And you remember what happened after that? After September 11, 2001?

All those "My (heart breaks) for NY" bumper stickers, blossoming thousands of miles away in the heartland. All those American flag stickers on football helmets. A certain sunwashed Saturday afternoon in Bishop John M. D'Arcy Stadium on the University of St. Francis campus, when two football teams gathered together at midfield in a gesture of unity before strapping 'em up and gettin' after it.

Strange. I don't remember anyone booing that day.

That's because we were all Americans and all feeling one another's pain in those days and weeks and months after September 11, and now we are not. Now we refuse to feel one another's pain,  a lot of us, because it's not our pain, and therefore must be nonexistent or overblown or just an excuse for some drama kings and queens to loot and burn.

And so we boo unity now, rather than celebrating it. And we cling to our prejudices and preconceptions as some sort of warped points of pride. We think it's honorable not to walk a mile in someone else's shoes, led by a President who all but smirked when asked by Bob Woodward if he ever tried to put himself in a Black person's place to better understand where they're coming from.

The President responded with some snide remark about Kool-Aid and then said "No."

No wonder we're where we are now.

No wonder today is a day to remember all that was lost on September 11, and all that's been lost since.