09 Jul Enough is Enough
This blog is dedicated to being a woman of honorable distinction, so I recognize the topic I am about to discuss may seem political or a little out of place. With that said, I would consider myself less than honorable if I did not speak out against the injustices we continue to see time and time again.
Once again I find myself deeply troubled and disturbed by yet another African-American life taken by the bullets of one whose job it was to protect and to serve. Alton Sterling and Philando Castile were black males who tragically lost their lives for no apparent reason. They each died because someone, a police officer, chose not to recognize and honor their humanity.
Black lives DO matter. We are actual humans with families. We have feelings and the same hopes, aspirations and dreams that every other American has. The only difference is that we live with the fear of being racially profiled; of our children being gunned down because of a misunderstood gesture. Enough is enough. We shouldn’t have to prove or justify the value of our existence. Our lives matter.
Today, I leave you with a poem that I wrote after the shooting of Michael Brown. As we struggle with our own grief and confusion, let us not forget the lives of all of these victims. Let us not let their deaths be in vain. Their lives mattered.
Black Man Down
You may recognize me as
Faces of a dark past
scarred by the iniquities
of society’s inequalities.
But I introduce you to
Faces of a shadowed present
marred by the injustices
of an unjust system.
I dreamed in days past
to be free from
shackles of fear, misguided perceptions.
But my skin color is a sentence
of an imprisoned life or
Content of my character?
How would you even know?
Before my lips part to say “hello”
you convict me.
Were my hood strings drawn too tight?
Was the music from my radio too loud?
Were my surrendered hands raised too high?
without knowing you;
without the opportunity to even
ask you “why?”
What did I do
to deserve death?
I didn’t choose to be a symbol.
I didn’t want to be a movement.
I had no desire to be a martyr.
I was just being me
Simply black me.
Now I am a life
Dreams from my father
Now I am just another