Every time…

Every time a Black American is murdered by the police, I have to explain that murder to my child.

Every time there is glaring inequality that affects Black Americans, I have to explain that to my child.

And every time I have to explain these things I cry in front of my child.

That’s what being Black American in your own country that hates you does to you… it weathers you. It weathers your humanity. It takes away a child’s innocence. It dehumanizes your death to the point where more people are concerned about the life of a dog than the life of a Black American.

The racial, social, and emotional trauma we endure chips away at us.

The apartheid that we live in grotesquely stunts what’s truly possibly for our children and this country.

We, Black Americans, have to live with the trauma of white America’s and other POCs hate, all the time. We have to live with the double standard of watching klan people and neo nazis marching with guns on various capitol steps while those protesting in Ferguson and Minneapolis were unarmed and met with tear gas.

We have to live in fear of a traffic stop, a wrong turn signal that could end in being killed like Sandra Bland or a racist coworker harassing you for years upon end, trying to end your livelihood because they don’t think you should make more money than they do or they are jealous you have a degree and they don’t.

You could get in an argument with someone and they attempt to lie and weaponize the cops against you.

My kid could go for a job one day and be turned away not because they are unqualified but simply because they are Black.

Black Americans are tired.

Domestic terror during the Failed Reconstruction Era,
Tulsa Bombings,
Greenwood massacre,
the Great Migration – families were forced out if the South,
Jim Crow laws,
bombing and murder of 4 little Black girls at a Birmingham church,
being excluded out the New Deal,
the Chicago riot during the Red Summer,
countless lynchings,
lynching postcards where they showed a pregnant mother being disemboweled,
housing discrimination,
the Tuskegee experiment,
the “Mississippi appendectomy” where they sterilized countless Black women without their permissions while they went into the hospital for minor surgery – this include the famous voting rights activist Fannie Lou Hamer,
separate and unequal education that still exists to this very day,
the killing of 9 church goers by a white supremacist that they took to Burger King afterwards,
environmental racism of oil companies dumping their waste into Black neighborhoods or see 5th Ward in Houston for now being known as a Cancer Alley,
devaluation of thousands of Black homes due to systemic racism in banking and lending,
employment discrimination being as high as it was in the 1980s,
disproportionate unemployment rates for over a century,
the countless murders committed by excessive police force,
the murder of Sandra Bland,
the murder of Ahmaud Aubrey,
the medical apartheid that Black people are experiencing during this COVID19 pandemic

400+ years.
The unflinching, sick, racial terror reigns supreme and it rages on.

Yet, we still are here and I want to ask God why?
Certainly the racial terror Black Americans endure is the 10th level of Dante’s hell.

And we are tired.
My soul is really tired.

Black Americans are tired.