We're Tired: An Essay
As I pen this piece, I find myself in a state of doleful pensivity. Quite frankly, I’m angry and fed up. We were just coming off the heels of the unjust death of Ahmaud Arbery and Breonna Taylor— and now this. What is it going to take for Black lives to matter in America? This question has been a strangely perplexing one for me. I feel the anger flow through my veins as I continue writing. For far too long we’ve endured traumatic violence and systematic oppression with seemingly no end in sight. For anyone who doesn’t believe racism is alive and well, I’d implore you to get your eyes checked. The sheer amount of ignorance and callousness led me to step away from social media for a few days to gather my thoughts. I didn’t feel very positive. I felt a lingering spirit of melancholy that didn’t seem to want to leave me alone. I had to deal with those emotions in a healthy manner. While these events are traumatizing, these events also display the strength of Black people across this nation. We’ve endured so much to make it to 2020. From slavery to Jim Crow segregation, we’re still standing and fighting for freedom. I’m proud to be Black.
I could not bring myself to watch the entire video of George Floyd’s murder— it was too painful. I’m tired of seeing unarmed Black men and women dead in the street as the world looks on as if it’s just another day. I’m tired of people looking down on us as we demand justice. As a people, we’re tired of not being heard. We’re tired of having to tell our children to be perfect, so they won’t end up in a body bag. We’re tired of being overly cautious. We’re tired of hearing, “get over it.” We’re tired being called animals because we take to the streets in anger. We’re tired of being killed. We’re tired of our past being used to justify our demise. America, you were offended when we knelt, now you’re going to have to deal with our rage. You can’t have it both ways.
Folks who chose not to identify with our struggle, could not last one day in our shoes. It takes a sheer amount of ignorance and a lack of empathy to choose not to speak up when those who share this soil with you are murdered like animals. For those who laugh and jeer at the sight of Black death, I pray the lord has mercy on your soul. This hatred of Black folks is revolting, uncivil and unjustified. I had to allow these feelings to flow. I understand some will not understand the lens by which I view the world, nor will they understand what it’s like to be a Black man in America. I wear this dark skin with pride and honor, for I am grateful the good Lord saw fit to bless me with Blackness. The world sees this skin as a burden, but I see it as a crown. We will continue to demand justice. I pray this is an opportunity for unity and progression.