P.S. I'm Angry
I’ve been laying low, observing, doing very little engagement during the uprising that has taken place in response to the murder of George Floyd. Many would take my silence as complicity. Many would be wrong. And I don’t believe my blackness can be measured by social media posts. Typically I am among the first to speak out on injustices of my people. Using the small platforms I have to speak my peace. However, the murder of George Floyd impacted me in a much different way, and I needed time. Time to process. Time to feel. Time to gather my thoughts. Time to take care of me. And that’s exactly what I’ve done. Using that time to allow myself to embrace every emotion I felt. Going from anger, to sadness, to numbness, to fatigue, back to anger and so on. And though I continue to maneuver through all these emotions, as well as prioritize self-care along with my mental health. I got time today!
I’m done engaging with people who are only looking to feed their implicit biases, racism and prejudices. I’m done trying to convince people that systemic racism and oppression not only exist, but are the foundation of America. I no longer have the patience to entertain the willful ignorance of others, nor do I feel like it’s my responsibility to unteach racism. If you want to be an ally. If you want to understand the plight of the black man and woman. If you want to understand how systemic racism and oppression has plagued this country and affected black people, PUT IN THE WORK and educate yourself. That’s what me and my people had to do, because black history isn’t a part of the American school system’s history curriculum. Black people don’t have the convenience of opening up a book in History 101 and having our history laid out for us. We have to do our own research to find out who we are and where we come from, because our story falsely begins in slavery according to YOUR history books.
Luckily for me my elementary school, Storman-Stufflin (shoutout to black educators), celebrated blackness, and made sure our history was taught and known. I grew up participating in annual African Soiree’s, singing the Black National anthem over the Star Spangled banner and having daily history lessons on prominent figures in black history. I obtained more information in my childhood than most have as adults. Which is a privilege most black people aren’t afforded. That privilege gave me a foundation in black history education that I continued to build on as an adult to gain more knowledge. And I’ll use that knowledge to educate those who I believe genuinely are seeking information to better understand the plight of black people, and become stronger allies for us in our fight for justice and equality. But I am not obligated to do so, and if myself or other black people choose not to provide resources for you, that doesn’t absolve you from educating yourself. Again, PUT IN THE WORK! And you can start by listening to understand, not listening to respond; and holding your peers responsible for their racist rhetoric and behavior.
I believe that education begets knowledge, and with knowledge comes understanding. And it seems that the absence of all three as a collective is the cause of a huge divide. Protesters exercising their First Amendment rights has been a huge point of contention this past week. And while most respect the peaceful protest, many have taken issue with the rioting and looting that has transpired. This past weeks events has reminded me of a popular James Baldwin quote, “to be a negro in this country, and to be relatively conscious, is to be in a rage almost all the time.” And I believe we’re currently seeing what happens when the rage of black people becomes unhinged. What do you do when your cries for help and justice have fallen on deaf ears for 400 years? What do you do when you lose control of your emotions after constant reminders that your life doesn’t matter? You let go! And when that anger and rage is released chaos ensues. And with chaos comes violence and looting, and despite what you may have heard, both are and always have been the American way - just look at our history. From slavery, to the Boston Tea Party, the genocide of Native Americans, Shay’s Rebellion, The NYC Draft Riots, The East St. Louis Race Riots, The Tulsa Massacre, Jim Crow etc. This country was made off violence, terror and unrest. It’s the only language we speak. So, why is it when black people talk to America in it’s own language it’s a problem? Racism! The main topic of discussion currently, but one of the many calamities of the black American experience.
One of the most deplorable things I’ve seen throughout the dialogue surrounding the murder of George Floyd is the minimization of the black experience. How dare you tell us about our experience? There’s no book you can read, video you can watch, or class you can take to fully understand what it’s like being black in America. Yet, the privilege and arrogance of some of you allows you to believe otherwise. Black people as a collective share experiences that most couldn’t fathom, but to better put this in perspective I’ll share some of my own personal experiences. I was called a “Nigger” so early in life I didn’t know to be offended by the slur. As an adolescent I was harassed by a police officer for riding my bike in MY neighborhood; I did nothing wrong but still ran, because I feared if I hadn’t done so I would’ve been harmed. I’ve had friends of white classmates leave messages on my phone calling me a coon, nigger, monkey, and also saying they’d hang me by my “big nigger dick” - that’s a direct quote by the way. I’ve had police officers point guns at me on multiple occasions, with the first time being so early I couldn’t tell you my age. I’ve been pulled over for being in the “wrong” neighborhood, and by wrong I mean affluent. I’ve been told I’m one of the “good ones” because I’m educated and have never been incarcerated. I’ve been spit at - not on, the Lord blessed him - during a football game. I had to have a talk when I got my license about the do’s and dont’s when pulled over by police. And not to mention the fear my Mom has lived with everyday of my existence that I one day wouldn’t return home, or the terror she feels when getting late night phone calls because good news rarely comes to us after dark. These are only a few of my personal experiences. I’ve had so many encounters with racism and discrimination I can’t recall a majority of them. And like I mentioned earlier, these are SHARED experiences in the black community. The strength it takes to persevere through racism and overcome the countless obstacles thrown at us on a daily basis is NOT to be minimized, or mocked. So tread lightly, because as the recent uprising has shown; we will no longer tolerate disrespect!
Despite the racism and persecution that comes with my skin color. I still love being black! We’re magical! And though jealousy and envy are a part of our community, the love and support we give one another is special. Especially the love and support given to us men by black women, however, the lack there of from men to women has been disappointing. The murder of Breonna Taylor by the Louisville Police Department has receive little to no national attention - before the past few days - and Ms. Taylor was murdered 3 months ago. The police used a no knock warrant to enter Breonna Taylor’s home as a part of a drug investigation where the main suspect was already located. The police fired shots upon entry and did not identify themselves. Breonna Taylor’s boyfriend, Kenneth Walker, fired shots back in self-defense and was later charged with attempted murder of a law enforcement officer - though the charges were dismissed despite a grand jury indictment due to doubts in the police’s version of events- and Breonna Taylor was shot eight times losing her life. There is no body-camera footage due to cameras being turned off and the Police Chief was recently fired after, again there was no body-camera footage in the recent fatal shooting of a black man, David McAtee. There is misconduct and institutional failure throughout the entire case, yet their has been little outrage until recently. And the lack of public focus and empathy is not exclusive to Breonna Taylor. The murders of women like Atatiana Jefferson and Tanisha Anderson at the hands of police received similar treatment. When we say Black lives matter, that means ALL black lives. Men we have to start standing up for our women as they do us. Not only do black women face the same racism and oppression we deal with daily, they are also tasked with fighting sexism in a patriarchal society. As Malcolm X once said,the black woman is the most disrespected, unprotected and neglected person in America. We have a responsibility to make sure they are seen, heard and protected too.
That responsibility also extends to the LGBTQ community. I recently read an article that detailed the brutal attack of a transgender woman, Iyanna Dior in MInneapolis. The article stated that as the attack took place a crowd of men and women looked on. That is disgusting! The fight for black lives mattering isn’t exclusive to only heterosexual men and women. It is inclusive of ALL black lives! And I think it’s important to remind people of that. Sexual orientation shouldn’t prevent people from having basic human rights, nor should it exclude them from acts of humanity. As black people we’re all fighting the same fight, and it’s important we become unified in our battle. Because after all is said and done, we all live with the fear that comes with being black in America.
Right now my fear extends beyond normal black terror. The murder of George Floyd has brought attention to racism and police brutality that hasn’t been seen in my lifetime. There have been protests and demonstrations worldwide in support of black lives mattering, and it’s been beautiful to be a part of and watch. However, I fear that as our anger becomes more controlled and time passes, things will return to normal. I fear that we won’t get answers to “What’s next?” and a plan won’t be devised to create real change for black lives; because my people, my community is devoid of leadership. We have no singular person, or group of people that we trust as a collective to guide us, which honestly makes me cynical that any real change will come. I fear that the police will never be policed. As they are the only group of people that are protected from retaliation when committing unlawful acts of violence. I fear that justice won’t be served in the murder of George Floyd, as recent history has taught us. And I fear that I’ll never be seen beyond my black skin.
In spite of the aforementioned I am hopeful. More hopeful than I have ever been for real change to come. As I’ve seen people be held accountable for their racist words and actions in a way I’ve never seen before. I’ve seen people of different colors and creeds united for a cause that doesn’t directly affect them. I’ve seen the black community unify, love and support each other with little to no division. And I’ve seen systematic oppression, racism and police brutality spoken about candidly on all forms of media. So, there has been some light in the midst of the darkness.
During these dark times I’ve been asked several times “Am I ok?” The answer is no. I am not ok. I’m angry! Among many other things, but I’ll be ok, because in the words of Van Lathan, “I’m Black. My skin is made of obsidian, my soul is fortified with the strength of the original man. My future is guided by the grace of my ancestors, in my past is the glory of the great civilization. I came from the womb of God’s most amazing accomplishment, the black woman. My life is a ministry on the beauty of survival, the wonder of achievement, and the power of serenity. I’m [30], I’m here, and I’m not fucking around anymore!”
I love you black man and black woman! ALL BLACK LIVES MATTER!