I was a child, but I remember my 11 year old neighbor losing her leg in the midst of the riots. I remember watching her suffer 30 or more surgeries trying to save her life throughout the rest of our pre-teen years. I was a kid, I should not have seen what I saw. I should not know what it means to be under martial law. It stole something from me. My innocence....my belief in the world...my childhood...
It stole so much from me that today, I'm angry that I'm not surprised at the verdict. I'm angry that we haven't figured something out...something new...there hasn't been a single new response in at least 50 years.
If black people owned a part of Wall Street, we wouldn't be racially profiled...our lives would matter to America = Corporations..the corporation is the real power in America and while we have money, we don't own any institutions so we don't have any power...
Corporations elect presidents, buy seats in the Senate & the Congress. Corporations move jobs out of the U.S., corporations drive wars and the militarization of the police bec somebody's gotta buy guns when we're not at war...
I'm tired of burying black bodies under a heap of anger, complaints, "I'm sorry", hollow demands, tears, woe and resentment...
I'm tired of fighting from a place of no power...
What's the plan my people? And don't tell me about a one day boycott. The Montgomery Bus boycott was 13 months until they put the bus companies out of business...
What's the plan? Because I grew up in a place where we earned PhD's in police brutality and immunity from the law for cops followed by riots and sad, hollow black people haunting the rage-filled streets looking for answers, looking for a salve for the pain...the pain of powerlessness...the pain of knowing your life means so little...
I got that PhD in pain, I got that down...what else we got?