These rabid Barbarians beating up the peaceful protesters all over America really has me shook, Y’all. I cannot understand why brutality is the answer to the question “Can you please stop killing us?” I have the most charming little house. We have fruit trees with golden and red autumn leaves blowing the breeze and gorgeous flowers planted under the windowsills still gorgeous and purple. We have a willow tree in the back yard full of the happiest, most plump buzzing little bumble bees. We have four of the most interesting fluffy bandits playing and tumbling in the fallen piles of freshly shed autumn leaves, going about the most joyful lives to bear witness and stewardship over.
And Y’all know what? I can’t even see it is because my eyes are flooded with tears. My heart is in agony, my soul is battered, and my mind is confused.
I cannot believe that Black people still being hunted and executed by Police in America is a real thing. That by merely being alive it is enough to activate the dinosaur coward sectors of the brain of simpletons and make harming or murdering black people seems like a good idea. That some folks really get together and talk about how black people need to be murdered because they are black. That deciding to question, stalk, and attack black people for being in parks, or schools, or in their own homes asleep in their beds means they should die. Not because of anything else, just their skin. Skin color no one can choose, change, and is just born with. I cannot believe white fear is really this greedy and so palatable by so many.
I cannot believe that people marching asking to be seen as HUMAN are getting gassed, getting beat down with clubs and shot with rubber bullets. That one can grow up, join the police force, decide your purpose is to kill anyone with skin darker than milk is why the Universe and the Creator allowed you to be here. Watching police officers and MILITARY personnel pepper spray Americans peacefully trying to undue the campaign of inequality that has poisoned this world for hundreds of years is unmaking me. It is unravelling the rationale of my mind. It is tempting me to be a new kind of Creature. A righteously emboldened Warrior. It is making me sick. It is making me furious. It is making me POWERFUL. It is making me into a person with a much higher sense of purpose. Instead of Illumination it is asking me to be a Seeker of Justice. It is talking me out of my Art and talking me into battle. Dr. Toni Morrison has said:
“The very serious function of racism … is distraction. It keeps you from doing your work. It keeps you explaining, over and over again, your reason for being. Somebody says you have no language and so you spend 20 years proving that you do. Somebody says your head isn’t shaped properly so you have scientists working on the fact that it is. Somebody says that you have no art so you dredge that up. Somebody says that you have no kingdoms and so you dredge that up. None of that is necessary.”
I can think of no truer explanation. What real reason can you give that can make sense of all this? It is such a real puzzle. How can humanity advance with Racism allowed in positions of authority, as examples of lifestyle, as a viable option in how to coexist on this planet. You would think, like other species of mammals on this rock we would acknowledge the equality of the human species. No matter the flavor.
What don’t I know that makes me unworthy of decency? Why does my golden-brown skin remove humanity from me? Why does it matter what color my shell is? Why does it really matter? My heart still holds love and loyalty. I look above and pray. My tears are just as salty. Just as bitter when grief inspired. I have a people that I care for and about. I have dreams. I work very hard. I volunteer. I express Faith. I pray. I desire. I love.
I do not know if I am more shocked that things are still so unbalanced or shocked at the level of savagery asking for equality has caused. Why are we still uncoiling this viper’s nest? What is the real problem here? Is it that they want the imbalance so they can be mediocre? So, they can have someone to subjugate? To exploit? Why are they afraid for me to have exactly what I earn fairly? Is hard work so inconceivable they’d rather brutalize the capable colored folk to keep the levels so low? I am so tired of these questions inside of me. I am so tired of dulling my shine because of what jealous, underdeveloped, childish fear might inspire. I am so tired of being stared at for saying Y’all or speaking in Spanish, or in Pidgeon, or in Cajun, or dripping with Ebonic realness.
But I tell Y’all what, I am NOT tired of. I am not tired of loving. I am not tired of dreaming. I am not tired of cooking. I am not tired of laughing. I am not tired of helping. I am not tired of hugging. I am not tired of flirting. I am not tired of laughing. I am not tired of being.
I don’t know yet what to do with this MAD. I am so sick of crying and crying out …
But now. Just this moment. The moon is full and ripe with promise. Nickowiss is cooking me dinner. He is filling the air with sautéing garlic, fresh crushed tomatoes, and sweet juicy wine. The cats are winding around my calves, purring and fluffing. I am safe. I am loved. I am home.