That’s all we hear about. It’s become the fad that refuses to be extinct. The natural order of things. The expected news bulletin with headlines, images and videos depicting all the reasons why one race is way worse than the other.
The names are too many to mention. The body count is too high to comprehend. The families in mourning will continue to scream in disbelief as they prepare to live with ever lasting memories.
I don’t have any memory of feeling safely included in the warm assurance of a cop.
I’ve never needed to feel protected or even rescued by one. I do however think that I will one day.
When that day comes — I will die.
In fact — I’m pretty sure it will end that way for me. It will be swift and tragic — given the circumstances that will link me to the unfortunate souls that already paid the ultimate price for their skin.
I will not be polite and I will not smile uneasily when the White men in Blue charge towards me because they've got a whiff of a substance — so strong.
I won’t cower like a betrayed puppy — shivering with anticipation of the inevitable.
I will answer questions with authority and graceless gestures.
Slamming me to the ground after tossing me out of my space won’t kill me.
Stepping on my hands and back while arming my throat to a standstill will absolutely not end my breathing.
Kicking my gut and forcing my mouth to open with the groans of a wounded animal — will still not force me off this earth.
It’s the fact that you fucked with me. Because I’m Black. That’s the official cause of death.