I Don't Want to Do THIS Anymore

I don’t want to do this anymore.  I don’t want to write anymore about dead black males who were doing nothing but living their lives and were killed because they were young black males.  I simply don’t want to do it anymore.  I don’t want to try, with all the depth of my vocabulary, to put words to paper that will convey the despair of black mothers, grandmothers, aunts, sisters, wives and cousins every time a black life is taken with little regard.  I don’t want to continue to write about the low value placed upon the lives of young black males not only by those who pierce their bodies with bullets without provocation, but also by the education and criminal justice system in America.  I no longer want to try to explain to anyone why this breaks my heart every time I hear it, even though I don’t know these males personally because I imagine this could happen to any of the young black males I love.  I am fed up with having to watch the stoic face of a mother and father who have buried their child and are left with the responsibility of behaving with dignity in a situation that is totally undignified.  I am sick of it.  I am weary with thoughts of justice denied each and every time a young black male is killed at the hands of a white male because of the fear he unknowingly evoked. I am finished with the justice system that continues to demonstrate with the acquittal of these murderers that there is no value on the lives of young black males not only by the system itself but by individuals in this country who make up these juries.   I am beyond exhausted with the conversation about how black on black crime kills more young black men than anything else, for that conversation is in no way relevant given that those black men who commit those murders are the majority of the residents in prisons across this country.  What some would call justice is being served in those cases, although it leads to the end of the lives of two black males rather than one.  I no longer want to hear another parent have to explain that their innocent child whose body was riddled with bullets at the hands of a scared white man was a “good child” as if by virtue of being good, he didn’t deserve to die.  In fact by virtue of him being human and not engaging in activity at that moment that was threatening, he deserved to live.  Only black mothers and fathers have to explain that their child, this child was a “good” child so that society can possibly feel bad that this black child was killed.  As if the other “bad” black children deserved their fate.  I am done with the conversation with black men who want to somehow separate themselves from the plight of their black brothers simply because they have made it to adulthood without mistakenly being killed for being young black males.  My heart and spirit cannot take another trial, another story, another discussion.  It can’t take another Sean, another Danroy, another Trayvon, another Jordan.  I don’t want to try to explain to another non black person why I carry those names in my soul.  I am done trying to explain to other black people why we can never be satisfied until all our black boys are safe at home, in school and walking down the street.  All I want to do is write about the future of black boys and how they can grow up to be black men in this country.  All I want is to know that they are safe.  That is all I want.