I need to write that shit down but I don’t even know where to start. I’ve read so much since the verdict.
I heard it Saturday night. I was alone. I had met two middle aged black ladies doing a yard sale up the street that day walking the dog. I had excused myself, passing through their stuff and one said “it’s all good!” which I rarely if ever hear in white LA. It made me smile. It sounds cool, it sounds chill compared to the straight, almost passive aggressive “it’s all right”.
That night I broke down. I broke down hard and I could have broke down so much harder. Thought of my white foster mom who last time I saw her two months ago was talking about “that nigger” who wanted to help her at the hospital. You have no idea. Thankfully I heal like Wolverine.
All I wanted that verdict night was to go up the street and hug these ladies, in silence. Eyes closed and running. Of course, I didn’t do it.
I kind of hit a point with this story: I don’t really want to talk about racism with white people, ever again. Sorry white friends, nothing personal. Most of you just haven’t read enough about black history and it’s a little hard for me to be in the middle witnessing everything.
I still can’t formulate my feelings. Not really angry or hopeless –I mean of course I am-, I more feel like this is it, black people need to not believe and quickly as possible try to live out of that system that systematically, forever it seems, will punish us.
It took me almost two weeks to post that, reading it over and over. I shouldn’t keep that shit in me for so long.