hopeless.

First and foremost, I would like to say Rest in Peace to George Floyd. In all honesty, my day was encapsulated with numerous emotions as I watched the video of George Floyd’s murder due to police brutality in Minnesota. Grievances like this intensifies my reluctance to be active on social media, primarily because it presses the knife deeper into my already-depleted heart…but I will be damned if I acquiesce and silence myself. One single tear plunged down my face as I watched another Black man die…on camera. The world watched as he laid there, defenseless, crying out for help and gasping for air. Mr. Floyd was murdered by the very people who are in uniform to protect and serve, and sadly we now have to add his name to the list of others who have suffered the same fate. I am angry. I am sad. I am broken. I am numb. To make matters worse, it is incredibly infuriating to scroll through social media and see people defending the officers behavior and justifying their lack of care for human life. I just don’t understand how people have become so desensitized to heartbeats that we are constantly at each others throats about who’s life matters and who’s life does not. How did we get here?

Of course, it is natural to ask questions like “when will this end?” or “where is the justice?,” but the problem is…this behavior has become so normalized that I am beginning to believe that the concept of ‘justice’ may not exist for people of color; for people like George Floyd; for people like me. That belief exists on the coattails of realization that this country was not made for Black people, it was made by Black people. The system was not created to include Black people as equals. The laws were not made for black people to be protected. I didn’t write this to be a history lesson, I came here to tell you that death of George Floyd triggers a severe wave of PTSD because there were numerous times (yes, more than one) when I thought that my name would be added to the list of Black people killed as a result of police brutality and racial discrimination. Here’s the truth…

The day before I moved to Florida, I was taking a walk with the girl I was dating. It was around 9pm but the skies were troubled and cloudy. Emotions were high because we were discussing the future and what would happen for ‘us’ when I inevitably moved a thousand miles away. As we both dragged our feet down the stairs of the apartment complex, we looked over the railing to see three police officers rushing up the stairs on the floor below. As law-abiding citizens, we stopped walking and moved to the side in order to ensure that they could get by. Little did I know, I was their target. The three men (one of which was Black) blitzed me like engage eight on Madden, and just like most men in that position, I stood in the pocket…frozen with fear and subsequent acceptance of fate. I had never felt that level of fear before, and as I blinked my eyes, my entire life flashed as a highlight reel in a matter of seconds. My hands went up as a single tear came down. Time stood still. I could hear my watch ticking and my heart pounding through my chest as I stared down the barrel of three pistols. One single tear is all I shed, primarily because left brain kicked in and I thought to myself, “well, it was only a matter of time. you knew it would come to this.” I will spare you the full banter, but one officer made a statement that continues to haunt me any time I encounter a badge: “don’t try anything, n*****, and put your damn hands down. don’t even try any of that ‘hands up, don’t shoot’ bull****.” I had been profiled and assumed to be the threat because the police were searching for a man ‘threatening citizens with a knife.’ Given no description, they just assumed that a Black man walking in a nice neighborhood must be the culprit.

As you read these words, I want you to know how thankful I am to have walked away from that terrifying situation…but part of me is stuck there, staring down the barrel. I can’t shake the view; it has replayed in my head for years now. I do not enjoy the level of numbness that I currently experience in instances like this, but this is my lived reality. Part of me is scared, a minute fraction of me is hopeful, but most of me is apathetic; hopeless. I was fearful for 400 milliseconds that day, and then fear became confidence that I had lived a good life and it was okay to clock out. Sadly, I have lived that way my entire life; ready to die at any moment...and I have had conversations with plenty of people who share that ideology. It’s not healthy. I know that racism negatively affects my (mental) health, but I don’t know how else to be when my Black brothers and sisters are killed on the daily and we have no one geared to protect and serve us. It’s heartbreaking to see the riots in Minnesota, but what do you expect to happen when you unjustly kill peoples loved ones? As Dr. King said, “a riot is the language of the unheard.” It’s a damn shame that people feel that their only option of garnering proper attention for injustice is burning down a city. I have seen what racial injustice (and subsequent riots) does to a city, as my city of St. Louis (Ferguson, to be specific) was rocked with riots and protests when Michael Brown was murdered six years ago. Sadly, his death exists as support to my belief that ‘justice’ might not be a concept afforded to Black people. Please, prove me wrong. In the meantime, Rest in Peace to my good brothers and sisters who have unjustly lost their lives as a result of police brutality. Your legacy shall live forever.

Please, do not misunderstand me. I love being black; unapologetically! I honestly wouldn’t have it any other way, even if I could. I take great pride when people ask me how I’m doing, and I can say, “blessed, Black and highly-favored!” It’s a privilege to be Black, but all good things have their shortcomings. It’s just sad that the color of my skin marks me and my people as a threat, even when we are shackled on ships or handcuffed and laying defenselessly on the pavement. In a lot of ways, the murder of George Floyd is symbolic of what it’s like to live in America if you are Black; being suffocated by a country who prides itself on (the fallacy of) ‘liberty and justice for all’ and gasping for air as life is forced from your body…leaving you hopeless.

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thank you for spending a few moments with me. i do value your time and thoughts, so please do not hesitate to send me a message (using the contact page or via social media) and let me know what you think. i would love to hear from you!

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savant shelf selection: how not to get shot by d.l. hughley & doug moe

savant song selection: salary kaep // wale