Anxious. Anxious about the reality that at any moment, because of my physical form, my life could be taken by force for no reason, by those who are sworn to protect. Anxious, knowing that going to support my people could lead to injuries or possible death.
As I made my way to the Brooklyn Bridge with my friend to go to a protest in Foley Square, I felt a deep fury of energy in my stomach. Not knowing if I would make it home safe, be arrested, injured or possibly worse, etched so much anxiety into me.
When I arrived to the protest and saw masses of people kneeling, my emotions shifted. The fear and anxiety that were so ever present was soon replaced with sadness and sorrow. The sounds of people chanting, telling their stories and clapping, it was so overwhelming that tears formed in my eyes. The reality that, to this day, black life is still seen as unworthy not only by those who are supposed to protect and serve, but by so many who benefit from black lives.
The only question I could ask myself was, why? Why does it take millions of people to rally and protest to get the simple message across that black people are human just like everyone else and deserve the respect given to others, if not more. We lead the culture in every avenue. We’re educated, creative, athletic, soulful and phenomenal beings, yet our existence still intimidates so many. Black people have been the backbone of this country for centuries and still we get treated like 3/5ths of a person.