I am sick to my stomach. I am mad. I am scared. I am…
The harder my heart races, the more I feel for my brothers and sisters whose hearts have stopped. Not from old age. Not from an accident. But from an unnecessary, hate filled, racist, MURDER.
The thing that angers me the most, is that I am not shocked. Im disgusted and continuously disturbed by the disregard this country has for its black citizens. The jails are filled with our men. And when the mask comes off, and we see that jail is continued slavery, then our black men and women start to fill the graves. And for what? Because we built the country and the foundations to the supreme court and the white house? Because we want to love ourselves and our kids the same way everyone else does? Because we want to walk into a store, buy skittles, know our rights, or run a couple miles to stay fit?
It doesn’t make sense. I teach many black boys. I have a black brother. I have black friends. And I fear for their lives every day. At this point, it has nothing to do with “walking the straight and narrow”. It has nothing to do with “doing what you are told”. It has nothing to do with “put your hands where I can see them”. Nope, black was seen first. Black is the new probable cause; the new “he had a weapon”. Black is scary? Fuck that. WE ARE SCARED. Why fear us when we are being gunned down in the street, lynched, beaten, strangled, MURDERED.
Im starting to question what “justice” really means here. My brain is having a hard time reasoning with the definition of the word, while reality proves otherwise, time and time again. We are crazy, because we keep switching up how we are present ourselves, how we come off, how we speak, where we go, and what we do. But the result is still the same. Will my dark skin and short hair scare the next officer that pulls me over? Will me knowing my rights make him want to shoot me to shut me up? Will my brother be the next heartfelt hashtag for a couple of months? Will it be one of my students? Will it be you?
I love being black. I love my power and resilience and strength and… I love my thick hair and thick thighs and…I love having the privilege of knowing my history so that I can hopefully build a better future for myself and those I teach and associate with.
I love my allies. I love those that understand. I love those that wish to understand and acknowledge the foolishness.
And while I am scared, I refuse to stand down and change WHO I am because…fuck that. THEIR perception of me is THEIR problem. I will not let them win by living in fear. Not today, not tomorrow. I will continue to teach my babies and give them a sense of self and value. I will hype up my friends, live my truth, and promote black excellence and all the things. In the words of Kendrick Lamar, “We gone be alright! Do you hear me, do you feel me!? We gone be ALRIGHT!”
God be with ya,