Tag: Justice

His name was Jordan Edwards. A 15-year-old boy. Murdered by the police.

I scrolled through my Twitter feed and I saw the headline 15-year-old killed by police. I paused as I felt the lump grow in my throat as I wrestled with my emotions. 15. The number echoed in brain like I was screaming it in a valley. Screaming and no one could hear me. I didn’t want to click the link. My finger hovered over the link as I tried to will myself not to click it. Not to read it. But I knew I had to. I needed to. I could not let his death go as a blip on my social media feed. I had to know the details. Had to absorb this truth that a 15-year-old boy was now dead. I clicked the link and read through the details. Very few were given at that time but as the hours went by more details surfaced. The police officer lied. His name not yet released because in this world we do not protect the innocent. We protect the murderer. The body cam footage did not show a car being used as a weapon. His brothers and friends saw smoke coming from the head of Jordan Edwards, who was murdered by a police officer with a rifle at 15 years old. Smoke coming from his head. The image of his smiling face now tainted with this ugly truth.

I didn’t read the comments. I knew the inevitable cries of “He should have complied,” “What was he doing at the party?” or “Why was he just existing?” would be there. I couldn’t handle that. Not this time. It was all so routine. The shooting. The lies. The press conference with the obligatory, “Don’t rush to judgment” pleas. The outrage. The hashtag. The R.I.P. shirts. The media attempting to vilify Jordan. Searching for any social media pictures that coincide with their way of making Black people animalistic and criminalistic. What evidence would they attempt to dig up that Jordan was a “thug worthy of being murdered at 15”? Then it comes out that he had “good grades” as if those that do not deserve their fate in America. That they deserve their lot in life to be the usual suspect murdered with no regard.

I do not know if I have it in me to go through this again. In this fight we bury sons, daughters, mothers, fathers, sisters and brothers we have never known.  We mourn men and women we have never known. We shed tears for boys and girls we have never known. We place their pictures on t-shirts, hoodies and prom dresses vowing to remember. We chant their last words like prayers that keep falling on deaf ears. We wait for justice that never comes. We bury a little bit of ourselves each time a headline comes across our phones, TVs or computers. Pieces of my heart are buried in Florida, New York, Louisiana, California, Texas. Sprinkled across this country like a blood offering for peace that we never find.

His name was Jordan Edwards. A 15-year-old boy. Murdered by the police. He died from a gunshot wound to his head.  Jordan Edwards died as smoke came from his head. And the world as we know it keeps right on turning.

Featured Photo:  Jordan Edwards Mesquite Independent School District

Dear America, Why Do You Keep Researching Issues Black People Have Already TOLD You Were True?

A recent article published by the Washington Post declared, “Racism motivated Trump voters more than authoritarianism.”  Another article published by The Nation reported, “Fear of Diversity Made People More Likely to Vote Trump.”

And in other groundbreaking news, water is wet, fire is hot, ice is cold, the sun rises in the East and sets in the West, dogs bark, cats meow, roses are red, and violets are blue… Sigghhhhh

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How many more studies does America need?  Tell me the correct number of studies that will make America believe what Black people are saying is true? Hidden figures math.gif

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Dear Colin Kaepernick: All You Had To Do Was Play The Game, Boy.

All you had to do was throw the ball, boy. We concealed this auction block well, didn’t we, boy? You didn’t know you were on sale, boy? Didn’t we tell you to just run, boy? Entertain us, boy. Win championships for us, boy. Stay in your place, boy. Don’t you dare get these other slaves, Black men riled up, boy. Didn’t we pay you enough, boy? Why can’t you just be satisfied, boy? Stand up and salute this flag, boy. Honor your allegiance to the system, boy. Didn’t we give you enough money to entice you, boy? How dare you reject your master, boy. Didn’t you like your name in lights, boy? Didn’t we stroke your ego, boy? All you needed to do was play the game, boy. Keep dancing for us on Monday Night, boy. Make us rich, boy. We don’t care if you get hurt, boy. Our job is to break bucks like you, boy. Didn’t you know boys like you come a dime a dozen, boy? We can replace you with no thought, boy. Make sure our new boy is a controlled boy. Thought you knew we don’t trust Negroes to be the quarterback anyways, boy. We did you a favor, boy. How dare you turn your back on us, boy. If you are kneeling, it will be before us, boy. Ain’t this game your God, boy? Don’t you see how everyone else bows down before us, boy? Don’t you know what we do to Negroes like you, boy? Back in the day, we let Negroes like you sway from the trees, boy. Make an example outta you, so other Negroes will stay in their place, boy. Don’t you smell that strange fruit in the air, boy? All you had to do was just shut up, boy. We don’t have to kill you, boy. All we have to do is silence you, boy.

Continue reading “Dear Colin Kaepernick: All You Had To Do Was Play The Game, Boy.”