Read on Twitter
Just had to lowkey cry in the car at work because this constant pain of being told that the lives of black men, women and children are expendable. It’s so fucking hard seeing people try to justify black death. It fucks with your mental health being treated like animals.
It’s hard going on Twitter and seeing another hashtag. It’s gut-wrenching seeing another video of a black man getting shot at in front of his woman and children and the first comment is “shouldn’t have resisted”. It’s hard being told that listening to cops guarantees your safety-
when time after time, Blacks have complied with the police and got shot and killed anyways. It’s hard seeing such a hard-fought defense for the police when we’ve seen countless, gruesome videos of what the police have done to us. It hurts that we, as prey, are considered predator
It’s hard leaving my house every morning, wondering if I’m next. It’s sickening knowing that I went to school with people that would likely still need the “whole story” if the cops ever shot and killed me in the street. It fucking hurts seeing these families torn by atrocities.
It fucks with your mental health when, DAILY, it’s someone else that looks like *YOU* or someone that looks like *YOUR MOTHER OR YOUR SISTER* begging for mercy, for understanding, for an equal chance at life... and at every instance, being treated as the one in the wrong.
All we’ve ever wanted was empathy. All we want is mercy, for the same hesitation to shoot and kill that they continue to grant *ARMED, DANGEROUS WHITE people*. All we want is a chance and, almost every single time, we’re denied even that.
It just fucking hurts, man.
It just fucking hurts, man.
