CN: racism, violence, police, white supremacy, murder
A 400+ year campaign slogan “We’re white and right!”?
Is wrong,
Whites and rights don’t get along.
They’d rather be white than right
White flight takes a wrong turn
When supremacists end up taking
Turns
Spinning shots
Shooting shot guns
Knees on necks
(“Don’t tread on me”)
Waving flags that took rights
Waving flags that took lives
Protecting monuments of fear
Monumental injustice Continue reading White Rights Are Wrong
I’m afraid of black men. Now that I have your attention, let’s talk about domestic violence. Really, this has nothing to do with black men. Except it does, for me.
I have post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), which is triggered when I see a black man on the sidewalk or riding a bike. This is because I have experienced domestic abuse at the hands of a former boyfriend who happens to be black. I hate this. I absolutely hate that black men are the trigger. Why? Because I love black men. I love everyone. I am terrified that my fear, which has nothing at all to do with black men, might show itself and make a lovely black man think that I, a white woman, hate him. Just because black men trigger a physiological response from memories being pinned to a bed, against a wall, and restrained in a bathroom by my former black boyfriend does not mean I hate black men. It just means that seeing a black man in a public space causes a fight or flight response in me: several moments of intense fear manifested by heavy breathing, a rapid heartbeat, and blurred mental acuity. The times that these triggers have actually been accurate – when the black man on the sidewalk has been my ex – my panic actually lasts for many hours while my brain replays the encounter along with memories of the abuse, leaving my body tense and my brain a mess. Continue reading I’m Afraid of Black Men
I didn’t plan on writing this piece about #BlackLivesMatter. I wanted to watch how it all played out without getting too involved. Truthfully I was afraid that I would say something wrong that would make me look unintelligent and uninformed. Then I realized that by being silent about it, somehow I was allowing more damage to happen. I write this from a place of vulnerability, love, and hope. I’m willing to be brave for those whose voices are drowning in fear. I hope to amplify the voices of my black brothers and sisters as they scream, even when it seems no one is listening. I hope to be corrected, as needed, by those whose lives are in danger and whose shoes I can never occupy. I will keep listening.
BeingCharis 