The OJ Simpson Verdict and the Joy and Rage of Justice “Served.”

Socio-Political Rants

I have been thinking about OJ Simpson and his subsequent acquittal in the murder of his ex wife Nicole Brown Simpson and her friend Ron Goldman. I think about it because I saw a segment of it on TV, followed by a truly strange coincidence where a member of the media circus decided to do some nearly-a-decade-old sluggin’-it-out right here on the comment box of Glutter. I have no clue who either of those people are, except it turns out one of the party lives in the same city as I do.

To me I have little to no doubt OJ committed the murders. I was in LA at the time, going to Santa Monica College and Living in Venice Beach. Every day the TV raged about the going-on of the trial and people spoke of it often. The moment the verdict was announced, my college cafeteria filled with the trial watching students erupted into a fracas and explosion of joy and horror. The African American students stood up on tables, cheered, stomped and shouted “Victory,” and the white students left in horror: from what I heard words were exchanged.

I and many others, asked, “How could black people see the world so differently from those of us who aren’t? They can’t possibly not see Simpson was guilty: blood, gloves, history of abuse and violent behavior.”

The answer as far as I could ascertain through time was that the black people who cheered saw it exactly as we did. That OJ was guilty. What they were cheering for was a different Justice being served: justice in terms of fairness in the context of America’s unequal history.

That since the beginning of the country’s history, white people killed black people with impunity, at first through slavery, to lynching, to allowing society to fall apart to the extent that the leading cause of deaths for young black men is murder, then making no effort to right this wrong. The system is so institutionally racist that a man is three times more likely to get the death penalty if he is a black person who killed a white person than if a white killed a black. 

So when OJ was acquitted, for some it felt sweet.

Justice was served.

As in, “Have a taste of your own Medicine white America.”

Ever since the “Trial of the Century,” (eye roll) is back into my consciousness, I have been feeling bitter whenever it crosses my mind as if metaphoric medicine is being poured down my throat

Bitter because a man could get away with murdering his wife. Bitter because my peers were so angry that they cheered when a guilty man was acquitted. Bitter this sort of thing is not the last time something like that will happen in my second home. Most of all I am bitter because this world I live in is so full of injustices that I actually understand why people could possibly feel joy at something that ridiculous because what I feel about this one case is what some people feel every day of their lives regarding all the institutions they exist in.

People like to play the game of “Where were you when you heard the OJ verdict.” I have no idea. I don’t really care about the case. I thought the whole media mayhem was just one embarrassingly long proof of the bad taste of the public and how irresponsible American news organizations are. The fact the justice system didn’t always work and juries could be manipulated, that I already knew.

What I do remember is being in a date with an African-America Activist that evening and feeling like people were looking at us. Like they didn’t want to say too loud that they thought the verdict was bunk in case they set him off. The LAPD was on alert, and people wondered if there would be hate crimes perpetuated as retaliation. I don’t think that happened but Ajami was embarrassed. Embarrassed that the dreams of Martin Luther King was reduced to hoping one of your own got off instead of wanting justice for all. That letting OJ off was seen as a victory because now a black man has the same kind of protection that a rich white guy has. He couldn’t stand that so many people could take pleasure from someone else’s family suffering.

But as we talked, we decided maybe it was understandable that people can find pleasure in the verdict even if it’s for wrong reasons. That for once, for the first time, for a lot of people, they got to feel what it is like to be on the winning team. Thus in reverse, for all the white people, and those of us who aren’t black gets to feel what it feels to be black. To know justice was not served because of a “race card.” Because a white man getting off because of an all white jury is a cliché in American history with the OJ story standing as the only counter act.

I don’t mean to say I take pleasure in the verdict now, in fact I did not in any way then, because I feel that justice was not served and that a guilty man went free, which is why I feel quite bitter, but whenever I think of that, I think that’s just one case. What does it feel if one’s history and color of one’s skin makes that a norm?

Ajami signed his letters to me, “Your friend in Struggle.”

The OJ case gave me an insight to why he felt that way.