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As long as I can remember, my mom had always warned me about the perception of other people. Don’t dress this way. Don’t speak that way. And when I was a kid, I thought it was stupid. Stupid that I couldn’t just look how I wanted. Stupid that I couldn’t speak as I wanted. Stupid
that in any way that could honestly reflect on her or anyone else in my family. And as early as middle school my mom has always warned me about racism. And it became a constant conversation since then. On random days after school. When I told her I was hanging out with my black
friends. Being told be even more careful especially with my friends that happened to be white and women. Because “you don’t know how other people will see you” and “you don’t want her dad to look at you in ‘that’ way”. And I remember thinking “This is so stupid. People aren’t
like that anymore.” And I kept thinking like that. That world isn’t the way it was even 20 years ago at that time. And I didn’t realize how wrong I was until Ferguson happened the summer after I graduated high school. So now I’m this 18 year old kid that still loves walking
anywhere and everywhere at any time of day, but now the world just feels ugly and for the first time, actually terrifying. But I was optimistic to a degree. This was just a one time, isolated situation, right? That was just one bad cop. And then it felt like day after day, week
after week, month after month, another story. Another person. Another church. Another club. Constantly people were murdered and for what? For existing? Because a group of four officers feared for their lives? But then mass murderers covered in blood, leave the scenes of their
crimes with smiles on their faces and not even a bruise on their wrist from the handcuffs. And for the past year especially, I constantly feel afraid for my life every time I walk through the door. My heart feeling like it’ll jump out of my chest, trying to figure out what I
could’ve possibly done wrong every time I see police lights in my rear view mirror wondering if the I’d seen my mom for the last time the day before, just for squad car to pass me, and myself having to pull over out of fear just for existing. I hate living like this. I hate that
this is the world that I live in. I hate feeling like one day I might just be killed because I didn’t see stop sign and I answer the wrong question the wrong way. I hate feeling so helpless and like one day my name is just going to be another on a long list of people that didn’t
deserve to die. Every time I feel like it’s all over it happens again and I just wanna crawl into a hole and just never leave. And somehow stating “black lives matter” has become a controversial phrase and is met with “all lives matter”. As if to say that the former is
insinuating that black lives matter more than any other. If you believe all lives matter, that’s great. Because that’s the point. All lives matter but I don’t feel like mine is seen as such. If I were to tell you that there have been days that I’ve been so depressed that I’ve
considered forfeiting my life altogether would you respond with all lives matter? If so, just say the word. There’s a problem in this society and if you can’t acknowledge as much then you’re just as much a part of the problem. And if one day I do become another name on that list
I hope someone remembers me well enough to speak for what I’ve always stood for. Nothing more. Nothing less.
