Every day I am reminded of the color of my skin
Every day I am reminded that the color of my skin makes me a target
Whether it be a cop car that passes by causing my body to tense up even though I have done nothing wrong
Or the panic attack that ensues over the possibility that they could be coming after me or my family
Or a white woman or man who cower in fear because they think I might hurt them
Which is insane because in all honesty, they have the means and the right skin – the perfect skin – to do whatever they please to me
and somehow get off scot free with claims of self defense
Every time I find out someone Black has been murdered by a cop, or a racist, it only makes the target bigger
It has happened so often that this target encompasses the entirety of my body
Even though I don’t want to be
Even though I don’t deserve to be
I am a target
There’s a target on my belly
Directly on my womb
A target for my unborn children
However many there are
There’s a target for each of them
And generations beyond them
And they are marked for death
And what have they done?
They have yet to exist
And it won’t stop there either
Even though I just want to be
A Black Woman
Even though I am an Intelligent, Creative, Artistic, African American Woman with a Bachelor’s degree
Even though I want to be so many others things like a beautician, a teacher, a chef, a painter
I’ll always be a target
Nothing more
Nothing less
What’s sad and frustrating is, I’m not saying anything that hasn’t been said already
It might’ve been said in another style or another language,
By a child or a grandparent
It doesn’t matter – it’s already been said
It will continue to be said
Because it happens every day
It’s so constant that it’s part of everyday life
I don’t expect my day to go by without hearing that one of my brothers or sisters was killed because someone of privilege thought I didn’t belong somewhere or just because of the simple fact that they don’t value my life and never will
Because they were taught to hate anyone who didn’t look like them the same way we were taught to learn our ABC’s and count from 1 to 3
We don’t expect our days to go by without hearing the news
We don’t expect it – the same way we don’t expect racism to end tomorrow
I woke up from a nap just to go on social media and see another black life taken
I keep on seeing this hashtags and the count just keeps becoming larger and larger by the day
And what about the lives that we don’t even know about?
And you know what it reminded me of?
That I will always be a target
Even though I don’t want to be
Even though we shouldn’t be
