It would be selfish of me to ask my brothers and sisters to lay their life for our people without me being willing to do the same. Lately I’ve been in the house hurting that I couldn’t do more. I admire black leaders before my generation – Malcom X, Martin Luther King, Angela Davis to name a few. I was initially hurt because of the murders of Breonna Taylor, George Floyd, and Ahmaud Arbery. Ahmaud especially because we share the same name, the same culture, the same routine, the same life. During quarantine all I’ve had time to do is think about him especially, but then the news of Breonna being murdered came to light and it saddened me that our community cannot catch a break and that no man, woman or child may be safe from the harsh hands that police us. Then recently with George Floyd’s death and media coverage, I was angry again, and very confused. Angry because I knew that the officers involved would see no true justice. Angry because this is the third Black life to be taken, that we know of, within the course of weeks, and the country didn’t bat an eye. I was confused because I don’t understand how another person can have so much disregard for another’s, especially when the basis of their hate comes from the color of skin.
After his death I was hurt because I knew that at any moment, it could be any of my family – my brothers, friends, or myself that are at the receiving end of this fatal hatred. And then the protest began and the riots ensued, and my emotions were in disarray all over again. I was hurt because our people cannot protest without being labeled thugs and that we cannot protest without the same police who are killing us, interrupting and inciting the crowds to make our peaceful protest seem more than what they are. I am hurt because I am stuck in my house away from being able to be on the frontline with my brothers and sisters who I praise and respect for putting their lives on the line just so we can attempt to bring peace to our people.
I’m angry that so many videos are circulating that exhibit the violence at the hands of unprovoked police, yet I fear there will be little to no repercussions for those officers. Instead those repercussions will fall on those peacefully protesting for our voices to be heard. I’m confused as to why people cannot understand why we protest, why we are begging for acknowledgement that black lives matter. And I’m most upset that I cannot be a part of the change. But instead of feeling upset at myself because I physically can’t be involved, I found ways to help where I can. Thanks to social media and the guidance of others, I was able to donate money that goes directly to the bail of those arrested during the protests. I have been able to share my story and experience like I am now, and have been able to attempt to inspire and uplift people during this time.
After expressing my confusion and pain as to how to help, a good friend and brother of mine, Tr’Vel Lyons told me that we create change within ourselves first and then in our communities, however small or intentional those are. I wouldn’t dare count myself out for not being able to create the change that my heroes dedicated their lives to. We simply have to pour our water on the dumpster fire. So, instead of continuing to feel hurt and angry at what I cannot control, I’m going to use my voice and my words to help as much as they can, wherever they can. The small things we do, no matter what they are can be used to help put out the flames of the fires that are institutions that promote and perpetuate the degradation and murder of our people. The little bit of water I have are my words, use what little bit of water you have to help put out these fires, and not hydrate those igniting them.
