PositiveFinally. It’s about time I see people finally coming together to make a change. It's been long overdue and I’m so proud of all my brothers and sisters who are brave enough to have their voices heard. I love seeing them tell their stories and preach their struggles.
After all of the voices screaming for change in marches got drowned out by the sounds of gunfire and dog growling. After the years of dirty knees, dry throats, and dark skin from being out in sun all day picking cotton in fields. After being torn away from family and given a price to reflect our values. Finally, people have decided that enough was enough. Without leaders like Martin Luther King Jr, and various other icons, I worried that my brothers and sisters would sink into society and learn to call their world of daily minority struggle “normal.” For a while I lost my hope. I thought that there was no one left with thoughts of peaceful vengeance. Now I see that there are multiple people who have not forgotten the purpose. The purpose to not let brave acts of resistance like that of Rosa Parks go to waste. The purpose to stand up and remember innocent bloodshed just because of skin tone, like me. The purpose to recognize that things have come a long way but still have much farther to go. I look down and see people come together of all races to demand a change. They’re proud of what they’re doing and aren’t ashamed to let anyone know. They wear the words “black lives matter” on their shirts and hoodies then proudly go about their day. I love it. I love seeing them so involved and aware of racial crimes and injustice. Even though they may not have suffered first hand like me and hundreds of others, they have every right to speak up and speak out about their oppression, beliefs, and hopes of change. My story is simple. I’m from Aikens, South Carolina and my family and I went all the way to York, Pennsylvania just to visit family. Who would’ve thought that the grocery store could’ve been my last doors to ever walk through . We were all in the car. My sister behind the wheel, my parents in the backseat, and me occupying the passenger seat. We saw them start to appear. They were on their porches. They were on roofs. They were surrounding us. Imagine minding your business just laughing and joking with your family at one moment, then the next having the car come to a halting stop because your view from every window is white men and guns. Guns pointing at you. My sister was too scared to drive and I knew that something had to be done. Somebody had to be brave and see to it that we all get back home. I got out of the car. Slowly and raising my hands so they would all see I was not armed and I was harmless. I was not focused on them. I was focused on the safety of the people that I grew up with, the people whose quickening heart beats and short breaths belonged to. I was worried about safety but it seemed like every white man that day looking down upon us was worried about death. Maybe they confused my English and I wasn't clear enough. Does “No, don’t shoot. Please, don’t shoot,” sound like “Shoot me. The color of my skin means I am lesser than you. You have every right and reason to open fire upon me and my family. I won't stop you?” I lost my life and that's the unfortunate part but now I get to be remembered as apart of something much greater. The memory of me and my murder is now grouped into others who were murdered for roughly the same reason: racism. I’m proud to be part of something greater. We blacks have been suffering for years and it's about time we begin to get the full recognition, respect, and fairness we deserve. |
NegativeBlack kids these days grow up yelling “Black Lives Matter” with no context behind it. They think that because they learned about the civil war in third grade and read about what their ancestors went through that it gives them the right to speak their “oppression” into existence. It does not. Until they can say that they traveled about 600 miles to visit family just to get gunned down by white gang members, they own no rights to say black lives matter. They don’t understand what it means. So, here’s my story, and here's my validity as to why I have every right to let the syllables of “racism” slide from my mouth. Not because I’ve read or was taught about it in school from what I'm assuming would be a white lady you addressed by ‘Mrs,’ but because I’ve lived through and experienced prejudice and discrimination before my life was taken. I could've been greeting half the men and women I met as “Yes, master.”
My story is simple. I’m from Aikens, South Carolina and my family and I went all the way to York, Pennsylvania just to visit family. Who would’ve thought that the grocery store could’ve been the last doors I’d ever exit. We were all in the car. My sister behind the wheel, my parents in the backseat, and me occupying the passenger seat. We saw them start to appear. They were on their porches. They were on roofs. They were surrounding us. Imagine minding your business just laughing and joking with your family at one moment, then they next having the car come to a halting stop because your view from every window is white men and guns. Guns pointing at you. My sister was too scared to drive and I knew that something had to be done. Somebody had to be brave and see to it that we all get back home. I got out of the car, slowly while raising my hands so they would all see I was not armed and I was harmless. I was not focused on them. I was focused on the safety of the people that I grew up with, the people whose quickening heart beats and short breaths belonged to. I was worried about safely, but it seemed like every white man that day looking down upon us was worried about death. Maybe they confused my English and I wasn't clear enough. Does “No, don’t shoot. Please, don’t shoot,” sound like “Shoot me. The color of my skin means I am lesser than you. You have every right and reason to open fire upon me and my family. I won't stop you?” How many people living today have gone to a grocery store with their family? It could've been anyone, but this happened to me. They’ll say I was just at the wong place at the wrong time. But what they’ll mean is the wrong skin tone at the wrong time. Either way, it doesn't matter anymore. I lost my life and now I’m looking down and seeing the foolishness of today's world. I watch as a man gets shot in a backyard carrying a cell phone. I watched another brother get shot from pointing what looked like a gun at people. I witnessed people saying “all lives matter” as a protest to our protest. Can we just come together and believe in something for once instead of be overshadowed by someone believing they are bigger than us? I watched my brothers and sisters get stepped on, and now when we try to get up, y’all just stand your foot down harder on our necks. You've attempted to muffle our voice but the movement continues. The world is still changing and growing, maybe not fast enough but it has come along way. Teachers are in place to do their job to educate what will become the future of the world about these topics of my people’s hardships, informative and powerful music such as “I’m not racist” by Lucas Joyner has been made to speak the truth and spread awareness, there are shows such as “Dear white people.” We blacks have been suffering for years and it's about time we begin to get the full recognition, respect, and fairness we deserve. |