I am tired.
I am not tired because it is 1:45 am right now.
I am tired because I wish I could be black without this target on my back.
I am tired because another black man has been murdered. Another black mother has to bury her son. Another wife has to cry bitterly as she curls up in an empty bed. Another son has to grow up with a father. Another daughter has to learn how to love without her daddy’s example.
I am in mourning. I cannot sleep. My spirit is uneasy. I need a mental health day — no scratch that. I need a week.
It hasn’t even been a full month since I last wrote about a black man that was murdered. I don’t think it has been a full 15 days and here I am… again.
As much as I hate seeing these videos, I must recognize the fact that there were a lot of black men and women who were killed without video proof of what really happened. If the video of Ahmaud’s murder was never released, his murderers would still be at home, asleep in their own beds.
My mind is racing but the ONE thing I keep coming back to is the desperate way George gasped for his mother. I want to cry but the tears just won’t fall anymore.
Is human life so meaningless that forgery requires a death sentence?
Is forgery wrong? Yes. Does it require a man be pinned down like a wild animal and choked to death by the ones who are called to protect and serve? No.
I want to respect cops, I do. I understand that there are a great deal of risks involved with their line of occupation.
It is hard to respect the organization when the good cops, the ones who take their oath seriously and don’t use it as a means to abuse power and minorities, don’t speak up and force change from within.
It is just hard to respect someone when they literally terrify you.
It is hard to respect the organization when you are the one recording the traffic stop just in case you have to prove that your dead friend wasn’t reaching for a gun, but their insurance.
It is hard to respect the organization when your 75 year old daddy talks about being pulled over 50 years ago and arrested because they assumed he stole his car.
It is hard to respect someone when you watch them choke the life out of a man, who was already subdued on his belly, with their knee.
I cannot take my mind off of the mothers who are holding their sons and daughters closer. The parents who must have yet another talk of what their child should do if they are ever just being black in public.
walking home from the store. playing in a park. sleeping on a couch. calling the police for help, with your mental illness on record. drive. eat. jog. go to walmart. sleep in your own bed. be in your own apartment. cosplay.
I am tired.
It is now 2:22 am.