In which a stream of consciousness brain dump guides these words and attempts to make some sense of the world.
I see you.
You don’t know what to say and that’s cool. I know it’s hard to acknowledge that this country and the love story we’ve been fed is now doing such awful things, and not just to people who “deserve it.” People who look like me; “a good one” who has hugged your child and sang a song with them about rainbows and animals.
It’s hard, lord knows it is. Up is down, black is white. Yes. My tired cliché is tired but it fits. Keyboard courage gives a voice to people who are having trouble handling the fact that those “truths” they knew about all those others may not be so true.
At 43 I know there are some things I grew up with and believed that are now just wrong and it is taking some time and education to adjust my thinking. I would be a big fat liar if I said otherwise. It’s out of my comfort zone but dangit, I am working that change.
I know you are not “Becky with the good hair” or some other dismissive name I can call you to sorta counter what I get called but please know that being called a Becky is not anywhere close to be called Negra, Girl, Gal, Nigger, darkie so miss me with the doe eyes and hurt feelings.
I know “YOU” didn’t do it and it’s not fair that you are getting blamed. But a hit dog will holla and if you’re hit, holla, baby.
Welcome to my world where I have been told to work twice as hard for half as much and still called to represent and prove things for my race because all it takes is one misfortune to never have a Black Woman running things.
I also hear you.
You are silent. You don’t know what to say and that is fine but
You have children.
You have relatives.
You have compassion.
Except miss me with those BS safety pins.
That safety pin is BULL.
The same person who told me to “Give trump a chance” and voted for him was wearing a stupid safety pin two days after the election. This was also the same person who told me that “Police Lives Matter” and that Black Lives Matter was “distracting.”
No one is asking to erase your history…I mean, maybe the parts that make people who look like me second class citizens, you can get rid of THAT. I am asking, demanding, for the same rights and the same freedoms you enjoy. I don’t want your seat at the table but am putting you on notice that there is room for all of us and when you don’t make room, don’t get upset if I create my own table.
NO longer will I soften my voice, softly smile, and make you feel better. Come correct or don’t come at all. It’s hard for all of us.