I’m just so exhausted.
TW: I talk about police violence.
It came out of nowhere. An unarmed black person was killed.
Ahmaud Arbery was out for a run in Brunswick, Georgia. Two white men followed, shot, and killed him. These men were not police officers, not that it matters. For months, the men were not charged. Then, on May 5, the tape surfaces online. Two days later, after public backlash, the two men were charged.
Then, before I could fully understand and internalize that murder, another black man is killed by police violence.
Sean Reed was driving recklessly along the I-65 Interstate through Indianapolis. Officers begin a chase, then Reed pulls over and gives his address to his viewers on Facebook Live. The audio is inaudible, as Reed steps out the car. Then, IMPD officers shot him a dozen times. In an exchange with another officer, one says, “I think it’s going to be a closed casket, homie.” Sickening.
I honestly don’t know what to feel. There’s just so much to talk about.
We can talk about America’s perception of blackness — how America sees black lives as expendable and constantly devalues our worth. Black households are twice as likely to be poor or unemployed, while only earning half of what white households earn. Black Americans are incarcerated five times the rate of white Americans, while only representing 13 percent of the United States population. America continuously sees the lives of black people as dispensable and worthless.
We can talk about America’s obsession with vigilantism — how American culture praises characters for taking the law into their own hands but considers them guiltless for the damages they have caused to both the families they have broken and the communities they have left shattered. This culture encourages American citizens to actively disrupt the lives of others within the community without due process, the one thing our criminal justice system is supposed to be built upon.
We can talk about political opportunism — how politicians use the rhetoric of activists and advocates to make themselves seem progressive on criminal justice and police reform, only to continue enacting racist policies targeting communities of color, specifically black communities. Politicians heavily rely on the “black vote”, and condemn our communities for not showing up to the polls and supporting their candidates. But, we cannot trust that these candidates will advocate for us when and where it counts.
We can talk about social media — how showing the murders of black people desensitizes us to its severity and strips these victims of their humanity. Sharing and resharing videos of black people being murdered again and again is not re-education but reinforces the fact that, to America, black lives are expendable.
There are, honestly, dozens of topics to talk about.
But I don’t want to talk about any of them. I truly don’t want to.
I’m exhausted.
Fighting for your life is tiring. Life as a black man is a continuous struggle, and it’s much worse for black women and black transgender people.
I’m so damn tired of being outraged. I’m tired of the “look at both sides” arguments. I’m tired of trying to convince people that I shouldn’t die. I’m tired of the same cycle over and over again. I hate hoping for justice to be served on behalf of the many black men and women killed every day, only for my hopes to be crushed as their killers are vindicated by the system. I hate the hashtags. I hate the prayers. I hate the tweets and Facebook posts. Because all of it is so mentally and physically depleting.
I’d love to live in a world where I can get in a car with all my black friends without someone worrying if we get pulled over. I’d love to live in a world where I can wear a hoodie without being seen as suspicious. I’d love to live in a world where going for a jog isn’t a death sentence. I’d love to live in a world where crimes are dealt with in court, not by an execution on a sidewalk. I’d love to live in a world where my skin isn’t an invitation to harass me. I’d love to be able to do the simple things others take for granted.
But I can’t afford to be exhausted. I can’t afford to stop being angry, My life, the lives of those I love and the lives of those who look like me all depend on my constant outrage and my continuous anger. So I’ll just add jogging to the ever-expanding list of things people my shade can’t do. It’s getting pretty long at this point. But what choice do I have?
Because I’m getting too tired to fight it.
