As a Black person, talking about racism to white people is like giving directions to someone from out of town. It's exhausting, but I do it so they can move in the right direction.
If we accept voting as the peak of our political power, we will never see change. We thought our starry-eyed optimism from the Obama administration would continue by placing another democrat into the Oval Office. We were naive to think we could go to brunch after electing Hillary into office. We would be psychotic to let down our political guard now that Biden’s been elected. We can’t brunch because no politician can fix our democracy. Only we can.
A collage of tweets from President Donald Trump, research, and personal reflections on Blackness and independence during the pandemic
Black lives must matter before Black education can matter. My degrees won’t shield me from bullets if a cop feels threatened by my existence. They won’t have my back when a creep follows me around the block because my clothes were “asking for it.” My degrees are neither freedom papers nor get-out-of-jail-free cards. They are an acknowledgement of my survival from an institution that was not built for me.
I don’t want you to feel at ease. I want you to know that you are the byproduct of a successful racist regime that has capitalized off of Black oppression and suppression for centuries. I want you to shed light on the corners of your subconscious you’ve glossed over for years. I want you to realize that being racist is more American than apple pie.
It’s hard to talk about systems of oppression that we benefit from. Light skinned tears don’t belong in the conversation of colorism because you can’t benefit from and be a victim of the same form of oppression.
If a picture is worth a thousand words, than a video essay is worth about a million.
Happy Independence Day (if you celebrate any sort of liberation today). I posted this essay (originally titled “On Humans”) on July 4, 2018. I’ve updated “Humans” to reflect statistical updates, new events, and my contemporary reflections. When I first wrote this, I hoped that we had already seen the worst. A year has passed, and … Continue reading Humans
The other day I was writing in a coffee shop, and a man in a red flannel commented on a sticker on my laptop. “‘Careful or you will end up in my novel?’” I was mid-sentence and caught off-guard. “Ah, yeah.. I’m a writer” And then the normal conversation follows: Where do you go to … Continue reading On Humans