GI’m on my way to a job where I am the only black person in my office.
I work with people who either don’t know or don’t care about This weeks hashtag.
They are going to ask me “How are you this morning?” and the simple truth is that I can’t be honest.
I can’t say that I’m scared and angry and that I want to take a mental health day.
I can’t say that I and people like me subconsciously fear for our lives on a daily basis. .
I can’t say that I have been inundated with with videos of hot bullets piercing black flesh and white cops choking black necks and statements excusing black death and the cries of black folks asking “what’s next?” because people tag me constantly hoping that I can write or say or, for fucks sake DO, something… as if my words move more than pages
I can’t say how I am this morning because it will make THEM uncomfortable and offended and bubbles are fragile so progress is gradual and whats another black body compared to the casual bliss of white supremacy?
Excuse me Susan but he did comply
I’m sorry Richard but she only asked why
FUCK YOU STEWART A HOODIE IS NOT A REASON TO DIE!.
But I can’t say that. Because you aren’t ready to hear that so I’ll continue to fear that me and mine might me next.
What are you following me for
Officers, Why do you have your guns out
I don’t have a gun, stop shooting
You shot me, you shot me
I can’t breathe
Why did you shoot me
Please don’t let me die
I didn’t even do nothing
I don’t wanna die to youngggg
It’s not real
Famous. Last. Words.
How are you today?
Fine Catherine…. Just fine…