I’m hurting so badly.
People are going to roll their eyes at me but I love this country. This is my HOME! This is the place that I am raising my baby girl. I always knew America wasn’t perfect. I rage against her imperfections all the time but she is mine. I belong here. This is my HOME!
I live an integrated life. I love people of all ideologies, sizes, shapes and colors. As much as I rage against racism and inequality I know that peaceful coexistence is possible because I have it in my life. There are also cops in my life whom I love very much, family and friends. They hip me to shit to keep me safe. They tell me safe ways to rage against the machine even if they aren’t raging themselves.
Watching Ferguson on T.V. last night did something to my soul. It broke my heart in to a million little pieces. Seeing an American city turned in to a militarized zone while main stream media and other Americans ignored it truly broke something inside of me that hasn’t quite healed since Trayvon’s murderer was set free. My Dad and I sat in my living room with our mouths hanging open. My Daddy and I had tears in our eyes.
Tanks rolling through an American city. Machine guns trained on peaceful protesters. Reporters locked up. Media trucks pushed back and threatened. Tear gas shot in to people’s yards. Rubber bullets shot at retreating crowds. Is this America? Why aren’t we raging with one collective voice? Is it really because the people being fired on are almost 100% Black and poor? Is it that simple? Is it that hard for others to see our humanity?
Safety is an illusion. Freedom is an illusion. It can all be snatched away in an instant. These are the truths I learned last night.
I don’t know what to do with them.
I hurt so badly and I am done begging anyone to care. I’m done fighting to prove my humanity and that of those who look like me. All of America is equally culpable in the me that was broken last night.
My friends who have always known better will shake their heads at me but none will say I told you so. They never REALLY tried to break my rose colored glasses. My hope made them smile. They grieve with me and for me.
What do I teach my almost 3 year old about this country, her home? How do I prepare her for the truths, so new to me? How do I separate those who are part of the problem from those whom I know would stand with me?
I hurt. I hurt so much.