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Wantonly Treacherous

Wantonly Treacherous

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 Before I begin my essay, I want to take a moment to thank all Write of Passage Subscribers, and especially my paid supporters. At the end of the SubStack, I have resources for you, all who help make this broadcast possible, week after week.Wantonly TreacherousI’ve been reading Psalms lately—Psalms 25:1-6 in particular. When anxiety, uncertainty, and unrest are high, the wisdom and comfort in David’s words bless my soul.This week has been heavy. It marked the 24th anniversary of 9/11, one of the largest attacks on American soil. More than 3,000 lives were lost, including children, and over 3,051 children lost a parent that day. I often think about life before September 11—on the 10th, I was working at a high-tech startup preparing for a visit from Cantor Fitzgerald. Then we watched the towers fall, the attack on the Pentagon, and the downed flight in Pennsylvania. Soon we learned that Cantor Fitzgerald had fallen too, with 658 of its employees perishing. America awakened to new threats. And the startup—my startup—never closed that round of financing. In essence, it was another casualty.“O my God, in you I trust.”Back to the present: On September 10, 2025, three students were taken to the hospital in critical condition following gunfire at Evergreen High School in Colorado. Gun violence is not new. It amazes me that the death and injury of schoolchildren—kids with their futures ahead of them—are barely covered in the news. It’s as though we’ve accepted such horrors as part of our lives.“Indeed, none who wait for you shall be put to shame.”The very next day, September 11, several historically Black colleges and universities—Spelman University, Alabama State University, Hampton University, Virginia State University, Southern University A&M, and Bethune-Cookman University—went into lockdown due to threats of violence. People wanted to take their anger out on innocent students. White rage targeting Black communities is not new. White rage bringing violence to Black folk minding their business—like these college students—is also not new.The Memphis Massacre of 1866 left 46 Black people dead and destroyed homes, churches, and schools. Later that same year, the New Orleans Massacre saw a white mob attack newly freed Black citizens, killing more than 35. In 1873, the Colfax Massacre in Louisiana claimed the lives of about 150 Black militia members who were attempting to surrender. The following year, the Vicksburg Massacre of 1874 in Mississippi killed an estimated 300 Black citizens.The violence continued into the 20th century. The Springfield Race Riot of 1908 killed at least 15 Black residents. In 1920, the Ocoee Massacre in Florida took the lives of up to 80 Black people, while homes and churches were burned. The Tulsa Race Massacre of 1921 left as many as 300 Black residents dead, as thousands of White rioters looted and burned the thriving Greenwood district. Just two years later, the Rosewood Massacre of 1923 killed an estimated 150 Black residents, and the entire town was destroyed by a white mob.“They shall be ashamed who are wantonly treacherous.”And when violence on September 10, 2025 also struck a college campus in Utah, members of Congress, media voices, and others pointed to the marginalized as the source. In now-deleted tweets, they stoked the raw underbelly of anger in this nation. Instead of waiting for facts, people grabbed hold of their insecurities and hate, clamoring for civil war.Unfortunately, this too is not new. People are desperate to blame someone else for their pain. The immigrant, the stranger, the marginalized in society carry invisible targets on their backs.“Make me to know your ways, O LORD; teach me your paths.”Then, the news broke the shooter who assassinated a man on Utah’s campus—a man whose speeches proclaimed white supremacy, who said he could not trust a pilot because of his skin color, who claimed slavery was good—was killed by a White young man from a conservative Utah family. The victim who espoused the right to bear arms and dismissed gun violence as inevitable casualties, died from a single shot fired from the young man’s assault weapon. A wife and young children are left heartbroken and bereft, facing the very world this husband and father had worked so hard to wantonly paint the world with treacherous words.“Lead me in your truth and teach me, for you are the God of my salvation.”This assassination is a tragedy. Every incident I’ve listed is a tragedy. But this one makes me think about the words I say—and the words I will leave behind in my podcasts and in each of my books. I don’t want to be wantonly treacherous. I don’t want people to dismiss my message because they lack empathy or understanding. I also don’t want to craft arcs of cynicism. My message is clear: there is too much wanton disrespect, too much treacherous loss of life, and too much excuse-seeking to blame rather than finding true ...
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