Via IG 8.12.18


Last night, I went to the thrift store and dinner with my partner. We did not riot, we did not go to the police station to demand justice. We rode through East Baltimore and talked. He was visibly distraught. All he wanted to do was drive as far from the city as possible so we could get some fresh air. So we rode beyond the county line, listening to Jill Scott, holding hands, in silence... I regretted posting that video immediately after I put it up (I took it down...). I know these viral clips are part of the marketing scheme that perpetuates the brutalization of Black bodies. I honestly would have preferred for whoever was taping it to have tried to stop it instead of recording it. But what else are we prepared to do when we see our selves on the ground getting aired out? We are not necessarily desensitized, it’s more like being in a nightmare that you can’t wake up from. You can feel everything but you can’t stop it from hurting. Like being in a cage and someone is pressing buttons that inflict deep wounds beneath your skin. Your arms and legs are secured to a cold, metal table and there is no way to escape. We are not desensitized. We feel it. We just need all of the people outside of the cage to help us heal it. Nobody can change this world alone. No social media post, no march, no speech.





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