It Could Have Been Me

I felt my beating heart in the pit of my stomach. “Again,” I mumbled to myself with anger. Another young Black life taken far too soon and for what? I asked the question, fully aware of the answer. There’s no explanation that can make sense of Ahmaud Arbery’s murder. There was no reason for his life to be taken. When I read the account of what occurred, I felt as if it was me on the ground, clinging to life after two cowardly white supremacist fire shots in his vulnerable body. This was cold blooded murder. It could have been me, it really could have been me. Each day, I rise, I’m acutely aware of the world I live in. I realize at any moment, my time here on earth could be cut short. It’s a reality I’ve accepted. Death unfortunately is no stranger to Black folks in this country. Every move we make has to be scrutinized if we are to make it home to our families at night.

I aspire to use each day to inspire others, stand up for my people while being the best person I can be. Each second of my life is a gift. I’d be dishonest, if I said, I didn’t have days where I felt the immense pressure of anxiety. The Black experience in America is almost synonymous with post traumatic stress. As a Black man, I’m overly cautious when dealing with the police. I’m hyper vigilante about my surroundings. I walk with eyes forward and behind my head. It’s exhausting, but I’m grateful for my skin that drapes my body. There’s a sense of indescribable pride that comes with being Black, although the world tries to discount my value.

I’m secure in my Blackness. I’m proud of my Blackness. I’m grateful to the Lord above for my Blackness, but I know my Blackness is threat to those who wish to see me dead, just for the simple fact that I exist. As a runner whose found great joy in each mile, I now feel the sting of what it means to run while Black. There are people who’ll try to tell me, it’s just an isolated incident. Other’s will say, racism doesn’t exist or he was probably a criminal. Some might even say, “wait until there’s more evidence.” Got dammit, wake up! For centuries we’ve been told to deal with it. “Get over it,” they say. “You people are always playing the race card,” ignorant folks shout from their cozy seat of privilege. I’ll never know what that feels like. I have something very clear to say to anybody who discredits what’s happening in this country. People who downplay racism, will not have a place in my life. “Friends,” who casually dismisses what’s happening to Black men and Women across the nation today will be loved from a distance. I don’t have the energy to be in presence of these kind of people. Now is not the time. We’ve buried far too many brothers and sisters at the hand of emboldened white supremacist. Enough is enough.

Rest eluded me last night. I couldn’t seem to get the thoughts out of my mind. My eyes were fixated on the ceiling as I struggled to get comfortable. When I closed my eyes, I saw myself in brother Ahmaud’s running shoes. It really could have been me, thought over and over. It could have been any one of us. We’ve got to wake up. My heart goes out to his family. I’m so angry right now. I’m hurt. I feel a wide range of emotions, but the fact remains, nothing will change in the country if we stay silent. These elected officials need to be held accountable for their deliberate blind eyes. They turn and look the other way as they’ve done for more than a hundred years. They will be judged for this great sin. This display of gross lawlessness is nauseating.

It’s my hope that with mounting pressure we will see justice served. While the cynical side of me is continually at war with my heart due to seeing so many injustices in my lifetime, I long for things to be different. May we continue lift our voices and stand for what is right.