I am overwhelmed by immense grief. I’ve been trying to find creative ways to channel all of the pain I’ve felt, but there is no response but grief. I can’t stop seeing George Floyd’s face. Or Tony McDade’s. Or Breonna Taylor’s. Or Ahmaud Arbery’s. Or Sandra Bland’s. Or Eric Garner’s. Or hundreds of others. I am constantly viewing a mental photo album of Black lives that have been taken and it has been painful, overwhelming, and draining. I see my brothers in these faces. I see my sisters and my father and my aunties and uncles. I see myself in these faces. I remember being 11 years old and being placed in handcuffs multiple times at school. I remember being stopped and told that I “fit the description of a known suspect” on college campuses multiple times. I remember driving home from work at midnight and seeing a police car flash their lights, make a u-turn, and tailgate me for the next four miles. Most of all, I remember feeling blessed that my anxiety didn’t turn into reality. I don’t have the ability or emotional capacity to adequately express how traumatic this constant barrage of Black death has been. I’m hurt and I know my people are hurting. To all the Black folks in my life and beyond, I love you. So fully and unconditionally.George Floyd’s death has caused a massive uproar on social media. This has been accompanied by an incredibly frustrating amount of non-Black opinions and interpretations of Blackness, activism, and oppression. This shit needs to get checked, plain and simple.
If you’re not Black and you’re outraged— good. You should be. But you should also understand that your outrage needs to take a backseat to Black leadership. The protests in Portland were hijacked. In Eugene, hijacked. And in plenty of other places, they’ve been hijacked. White demonstrators are taking advantage of a Black oppression and pushing Black people out. How the fuck do you gentrify protests? If your goal is truly to stand against the oppression of Black people, then defer to the leadership of Black people. And if that includes fiery protests, then let that shit burn. But white folks don’t get to light a fuse that’s threaded with the same material as nooses. Check your privilege at the door.
A lot of folks are sharing a tweet that states, “Saying ALM as a response to BLM is like saying the fire department should spray down all houses in a neighborhood even though only one house is one fire because all houses matter”. You may think this is a great display of allyship and is so clever, but to that I would say: I am not a fucking burning house. My Black is not a hindrance or an oppression— my Black is beautiful. When Black people are being targeted, the problem is not that they are Black. The problem is that there are people with power and privilege who fear Blackness and act upon it. Continuing with the analogy, the problem is not a burning house. The problem is that someone is trying to burn a house down. If you view Blackness as a burning house, you are denouncing the inherent beauty of Blackness and showing your savior complex. Check your privilege at the door.
If you’re only present about the killing of unarmed presumably straight, cisgendered Black men, then you are missing the point. Black women, Black trans women, Black trans men, and Black people of all sexualities are being targeted. If you’re ignoring the intersections between gender and sexuality when it comes to violence against Black people, then you aren’t standing for the liberation of all Black people. Check your privilege at the door.
I shouldn’t have to say this— stop sharing photos and videos of Black people being murdered. It’s incredibly triggering and only serves to satisfy a morbid craving for observing Black death. Every time I’m on a knee to rest, or move around, or grab something, or anything at all, I immediately see George Floyd’s face beneath that officer's knee. I feel lucky that I wasn’t underneath his knee but I breathe cautiously, knowing that I damn well could be.
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