The Rage

I have not written about my thoughts about the state of affairs in regards to the relationship between black people and the police in a very long time. I used to dedicate so much of my time to it. The weight of it all began to affect me mentally, emotionally, spiritually, and physically.

But, when a 15 year old girl is gunned down after calling for help– I had to allow my rage to be fully expressed. This rage is truly incomprehensible, it is ancient, one that comes from my ancient ancestors- those that had to witness lynchings, beatings, seeing their children sold off, being separated from their homelands, language, customs, spiritual systems.

This rage is deep seated. It is an emotion that can not truly be quantified. It pulsates, it never truly dies. It festers and drives me on. When folks ask me why I do not trust law enforcement, I am appalled. Look at what they continue to do. And they will go to great lengths to justify treating my family worse than a dog.

It is always this way. We take one step forward to be pushed back 10. For this reason, the rage has a life of its own. We continue to be dehumanized, retraumatized, and told to grin and bear it. I am exhausted! But, the rage does not allow for rest.

This rage is ancient. This rage is alive. Is there no safe place, no security, no solace for black people ?

I am choosing rage. And if it ever comes to my door, I choose violence..

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