From Tranquil to WHAT THE FUCK?!
I was first pulled over by the police at 24 yrs old.
My 18 year old brother sat in the back seat.
His eyes nervously pleading for his life.
Not because he had done anything at all.
But because of the various implications of being a black kid in America.
My brother could have become Philando Castile.
The 2nd time........
I am 28.
I am scared.
My phone is dead.
And I've foolishly pulled into a vacant lot.
The police officer and his partner approached my car with their flashlights scaling the length of my car.
They flash their lights into my backseat window.
Blinding my 4 year old son.
He's stares at them stiff.
I try to reassure him that everything is ok.
I was "free to go" again.
Bennie about to cry, asks "Mommy are you ok?"
I was not.
I could've become Sandra Bland.
It's 2020 and I am still NOT OK!
1. Breonna Taylor murdered by the police.
2. Ahmaud Arbrey murdered by racists.
3. George Floyd is slowly murdered on camera by the police.
All within the last 3 months.
I didn't want to blog about this.
But I have to.
I am so sick of this SHIT!
I can't sleep.
I've been swallowing my tears.
My anxiety is heightened.
I hate racists.
I hate that they try to justify why they murdered us.
I hate that it is always our fault for being murdered.
I hate that white privilege is weaponized and threatens our lives daily.
I hate that our country is under incompetent leadership.
I hate that I can't prevent my sons from becoming the next Tamir Rice.
I hate that I can't prevent my husband from being the next George Floyd.
I hate that I can't prevent myself from being the next Breonna Taylor.
I hate that we have to riot in order for police to be arrested for murder.
I hate that we built a country that lynches us every single day and gets away with it.
My people deserve better.
We want to live.
We want to breathe.
I just can't.
Peace.
©Chroniclesofthelazynatural
My 18 year old brother sat in the back seat.
His eyes nervously pleading for his life.
Not because he had done anything at all.
But because of the various implications of being a black kid in America.
My brother could have become Philando Castile.
The 2nd time........
I am 28.
I am scared.
My phone is dead.
And I've foolishly pulled into a vacant lot.
The police officer and his partner approached my car with their flashlights scaling the length of my car.
They flash their lights into my backseat window.
Blinding my 4 year old son.
He's stares at them stiff.
I try to reassure him that everything is ok.
I was "free to go" again.
Bennie about to cry, asks "Mommy are you ok?"
I was not.
I could've become Sandra Bland.
It's 2020 and I am still NOT OK!
1. Breonna Taylor murdered by the police.
2. Ahmaud Arbrey murdered by racists.
3. George Floyd is slowly murdered on camera by the police.
All within the last 3 months.
I didn't want to blog about this.
But I have to.
I am so sick of this SHIT!
I can't sleep.
I've been swallowing my tears.
My anxiety is heightened.
I hate racists.
I hate that they try to justify why they murdered us.
I hate that it is always our fault for being murdered.
I hate that white privilege is weaponized and threatens our lives daily.
I hate that our country is under incompetent leadership.
I hate that I can't prevent my sons from becoming the next Tamir Rice.
I hate that I can't prevent my husband from being the next George Floyd.
I hate that I can't prevent myself from being the next Breonna Taylor.
I hate that we have to riot in order for police to be arrested for murder.
I hate that we built a country that lynches us every single day and gets away with it.
My people deserve better.
We want to live.
We want to breathe.
I just can't.
Peace.
©Chroniclesofthelazynatural
Comments
Post a Comment