Being Black in America
Black Lives Matter.
This is a statement we hear continuously but when will it be true? Over 120 Black people have been killed by police just in 2016. When you consider that Black people make up 13% of the population in America and the fact that it’s only July, that’s an excessive amount.
When I think of the people who become hashtags and all the Black deaths that go unpublicized, it saddens me. I often feel scared, depressed, frustrated, and emotionally drained being Black in this country. I wish I could be mad at one factor like racism, police brutality, systemic oppression… But there are so many things contributing to this problem that I don’t know where to start.
The only thing I know is I’ve spent the past few days trying not to think too hard about what’s happening in this country because when I do, it breaks my heart. When I do, tears automatically pour down my face. When I do, I begin to feel hopeless. I’m exhausted. Black America is exhausted. We are screaming to be heard by people wearing earplugs. We are speaking to people who have their backs turned to us. We are climbing a mountain that seems to have no peak.
I could end this post by saying my heart goes out to a specific family who has lost their loved one but that isn’t enough. There will never be enough words to comfort their loss. My heart goes out to the children left without a father. My heart goes out to the women who are now forced to be single mothers. My heart goes out to anyone who will never hear their loved one’s laugh again. My heart goes out to Black America. Keep the peace. Keep the faith. Prove them wrong. Never forget the magic and power that thrives inside of you.