Deep cynicism from Black Gen-Xers. Inexpressible fatigue that brings tears to my eyes from Black Boomers & Silent gen. (Most Greatest Gen are no longer with us thanks to health disparities.)

Today, I worry about the younger generations' dreams dying on the vine. (It's too much.)

As my generation becomes elders before our time (as happens with all African-descended generations in this hemisphere), we have to guard against our cynicism turning into bitterness, y'all.

Daily, during this crisis, I am gentling my heart so that it doesn't turn into stone.

I have never been closer to the twin traps of hatred and despair than I am now. But there is still hope. That hope is in the way that people all over the world are not turning on each other, but are actively mitigating the death being enabled by our "leadership."

Daily, I remind myself that hatred, bitterness, and despair are not options that the generations who yet live, or the generations in the ground, have left open to us. We live. We survive.

We have to find a way out of what seems to be no way.

I do think we'll live to see the arc of the moral universe bend toward justice, at least a little. But we have to bend it ourselves, and keep bending it. No one will do it for us.

And it's not always in grand gestures that the bend happens. It's in our moment to moment choices.

White supremacy is real, and it's killing us. But it won't win. The question isn't if, but when, it loses.