Unconcerned. I am unconcerned about the opinions and delicate feelings of the ignorantly self-entitled. Unconcerned. I am unconcerned about the overwhelming guilt felt by those who “feel” attacked because they’ve now been lumped in to a group that is getting bad press. “We’re not all the same, that’s not fair to put us all in one group.” I am unconcerned because you have been unconcerned.
You were unconcerned about Emmett Till, Tamir Rice, Aiyana Jones, Ramarley Graham, Sean Bell, Sandra Bland, Amadou Diallo, Michael Brown, Atatiana Jefferson, Eric Garner, Trayvon Martin, Ahmaud Arbery, and now George Floyd—I say “and” not as conclusory but as the latest that we are aware of and I cannot bear it. Frankly reading this, you may still be unconcerned and it would be your loss.
My fingers hover over the keys searching for the words to write, what could so clearly capture what I want you to understand? Maybe this…
Imagine:
You are in a room with people, some you know and some you don’t. There’s laughing and talking, a general mixing of people. Simple. Then all the lights go out, complete darkness but before you can open your mouth to ask “what’s going on?” you feel a sharp prick on your body and you wince from the mild discomfort. You take a few steps away from the area you believed the pain came from but not too far because hey, it could have been an accident. In this darkness you would think there would be a panic and rush to find some source of light but its quiet. Another prick, actually this one punctured you. “Owww!” you yell out in pain, surely one of the other guests heard you and can help… silence. What started as mild discomfort and was brushed off as a potential accident has now become a full attack. The sharp piercings seem to come from all directions, some even slicing your skin open. You scream out, cry and try to move in any direction hoping to find rescue and you wonder how is this happening? Why is this happening? It dawns on you as you feel as though you could pass out from the pain, the room is still silent and the only voice heard is your own. The other guests are unconcerned or guilty.
This is what it feels like. All of history and current day for a black person (Afro-descendants) feels like being repeatedly stabbed and sliced in the dark and you just don’t know why, how or which way to turn for safety. We (black people) are screaming out to be heard, we don’t know what other words we can use… “hands up, don’t shoot”, “I can’t breathe”, “hi, do you want help” none of these seem to work. (That last one was my own I was spat at as a child when I tried to help an elderly white woman cross the street—if you’re wondering, it was the elderly white woman that spat at me, I was around 6 or 7 years old at the time).
My mind is saying “I’m tired” but my lips can’t form the words. I can’t say that I am angry, it is way beyond that. I am not numb, stopping to pray unable to form words only “Jesus, help” and then uncontrollably sobbing while I continued to work shows that I do not have the capacity to be numb. So this leaves me with UNCONCERNED. I am unconcerned with how you perceive my worth. Unconcerned with your validation and scrutiny. Unconcerned with censoring myself so as to not hurt your delicate sensibilities. Quite frankly, they need to be hurt, shattered even. Your sensibility is the wall you’ve encased yourself in if you see these injustices happening and you find it unimportant to talk about, to speak out against that is unless you believe these injustices are a good thing. Your wall of ignorant sensibility needs to be shattered, you need to see the light. Its your darkness that seeks to trap us and keep us bewildered and wounded.
If you are silent and believe these injustices to be wrong, you’re not helping you are hurting, take this as your wake up call.
The term ally floats. How sad is it that a group of people, not warring factions, are searching out allies? This is where we are, there is a war on my life because of my skin color and genetic make up. In the scheme of it all, when evaluating sense and foolery, I would think the one who fears and hates a mirror image of their self because the color is different is the fool.
History is not repeating itself, for that to happen there would have had to have been a marked ceasing. There isn’t one, not one. The correct word is perpetuating and the only difference is the improvement of technology to record the blatant disregard for black lives. This is why we will continue to scream, post, write and wear “BLACK LIVES MATTER”.
We do matter. I am black and my life matters!
You may feel that this was a rambling but look carefully, there’s so much to unpack. I pray for you but I pray for me more, that my heart continues to show Christ Jesus. I refuse to become the hatred directed at me (black people).
I found my refuge in the darkness, His name is Jesus Christ. I am safe in Him despite what mankind does, Christ is my peace. Weeping may endure for a night but joy comes in the morning. Make no mistake, joy WILL come.
BLACK LIVES MATTER TO GOD.
