I woke up today being beautiful and feeling beautiful. I thanked the Lord for the day and I rolled over to face-time my Love. I chatted with my son, made sure my daughter was ready for home school and laid in bed thinking about my day, my week and that ever growing “to do” list.
As soon as I got online, the first thing I saw was that another black man has been executed by the police.
My heart sank and I cried for the woman who was screaming and jumping up and down in the video as the police fired at close range while pulling on his white tee shirt. I cried for his mother. His family. His community.
And I cried for the Diaspora. The scattered people who do not know home or true freedom.
I cried for me.
The man had on a tee shirt, shorts and flip flops. Nothing was in his hand. But I am sure the news will be he was reaching in his truck for an atomic bomb.
I purposefully did not watch the execution of George Floyd. My being, my soul could not endure that trauma and function as it needed to. Today, it was forced upon me. Unwillingly.
The innocence I had for the day was stolen. Raped. Snatched right from me as I laid in bed.
Compounded pain. America inflicts us with pain that earns interest.
Every single day.
So here I am. Pushing to be productive. Pushing my soul to breath.
Pushing to still be beautiful and lovely despite the souls of black men still hanging from America’s trees.