My Thoughts at This Time on This Topic

7 Jul

Her: Did you see this shit?

Me (glancing at her phone): No. What is it? Is it…?

Her: The Alton video. 

Me: No. I don’t look at things like that. 

I refuse to watch it. I know it happened. Isn’t that painful enough? I don’t get off on the shock value. I don’t think watching and sharing it is going to solve the problem. 

I have a father in Ohio. I have a Black step father in North Carolina. I have two Black brothers here in NYC, and one in Ohio. I have Black male cousins all over the U.S., predominantly the south. I have Black male friends all over the U.S., predominantly the south. It’s July in NYC… it’s hot. It’s always open season on the Black man. But they go harder in urban areas when it’s hot. 

I know they’re killing our women too. I have a hotheaded baby sister roaming the streets of Staten Island, skin so coal Black and amazing that her palms couldn’t  even pass the paper bag test. I’m terrified for her too. 

I don’t even think about me. I think about my siblings and my daughter, ALL the time. 

I grew up less than a mile away from where Diallo was killed in front of his own building. When I see a raccoon, I get queasy because they are unpredictable creatures in my opinion. I don’t know what they’re going to do. I feel the same way about police. 

Your skin color doesn’t frighten me. The color of your uniform and your badge scares the shit out of me. You are unpredictable creatures to me. I don’t know if you’re a racist. I don’t know if you’re a lone wolf on a mission. I don’t know if you’re so fed up with your own race you’re willing take out the ones who offend you. I don’t know if the negativity associated with my appearance frightens you. I don’t know if you’re just having a bad day. 

Now there are no defined boundaries. I don’t know what’s scarier; slavery, Jim Crow, or now? It’s not like: if I go here, they might get me. If I go there, they might get me. If I do this, they might get me. If I say that, they might get me. It doesn’t matter. Someone can legally obtain and carry a firearm and blow my fuckin head off because I’m Black, I used a word bigger than 7 letters, it’s 100 degrees, he got cheated on, someone stole his fuckin puppy, and his first instinct was to pull the trigger. 

Nah, I’m not gonna look at the video or the pictures or share them. I barely watch scary movies, so why would I taint my brain with real life gore? I am a mother with huge problems. I have to make a concious effort everyday to not allow my problems to influence my mood enough to disturb my child. Not that this is not my problem too, I just won’t let the images diminish my hopes for better days and a better life. 

Just my thoughts, at this time, on this topic. 

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