Out of Body

▪Out of Body▪

As I sit and listen to the rain outside my window, I feel disconnected, like I am living outside my body watching this world steal black lives for its pleasure.

I imagine it is a sport, a badge of honor, and a right of passage for those that slay us. I wonder if they discuss their kill count over drinks or joke about how they are above all law of this land. An identity built in taking and slaying black people. An identity built in ruining families and injecting generational dysfunction and fear, killing our family trees from the root to the leaf.

I feel tightness in my chest, but it’s nothing compared to the tightness of suffocation or the searing, burning pain of bullets riddling my body as our fallen brother and sisters have experienced.

And for what, existing? Our biggest crime to them is being born. But I don’t want any pity for my people or sympathy. This just allows you to celebrate the unhunted and unhaunted life you are privileged to live.

Just Stop Killing Us. 🖤✊🏾

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