I don’t have class on Thursdays, thankfully. I use this day to get homework done, do odd jobs for clients, and sometimes just rest and reflect on life when I have that luxury (the latter rarely happens). Today, I woke up and scrolled through social media as I usually do. I have an active Facebook presence and engage in debate when possible. One of my friends posted about the racism displayed at Quinnipiac and their lack of concern for black students and failure to act immediately.    Â
Surprisingly, the majority of the commenters agreed with the post and were appalled by the utter disregard for black students at the university. There was one guy whoever, who didn’t see anything wrong with this “joke.” Historical context matters. It’s not my job to educate you, but you can read here about the history of this racist practice.  He proceeded to tell me that, “You are exactly what is wrong with America. You think racism is a one-way road.” I hit him with straight facts, and a bunch of wonderful people defended me and the truth that I spoke. I’m used to white people neglecting to listen to the experiences of black people. I’m entirely numb to what is going on around me.
Or so I thought.
I get out of bed, get dressed, and proceed with my day. I head to Harvard Square to do a research study. (I swear by them!). After the study, I get on the 1 bus and head back to my dorm–a route I take almost every time I leave Harvard Square. I prefer the buses to the trains and the 1 bus route is one I know very well. As we pass Albany Street, I look at my phone and check Facebook as I did when I first woke up.
I see a post about the horrific death of Terence Crutcher and I read the comments. One guy said, “There was no brutality. He made a move for the car, probably to flee, and he got shot for it. Simple and plain.”
Wait. What?
How can you assume he was fleeing? The man’s car broke down. He couldn’t flee even if he wanted to because his car stalled. Even if he was a criminal, he doesn’t deserve to die. Police are supposed to be trained at deescalating situations of potential violence. That’s what they learn in the academy.
Terence Crutcher didn’t deserve to die. No justification for this shooting will suffice. Betty Shelby is a murderer.
I started crying. On the one bus, on Albany Street, tears streamed down my face.
“Why do you do this to yourself? Why look at the comments? Stay away from Facebook.”
I get paid to use Facebook, so staying away from it completely is not possible for me to do my job. Shouldn’t you be more concerned that people support these ideals rather than the fact I happen to look at them?
I have to coexist with these people. This man could be a student at my university. This man could be someone I work with. This man could be my server at a restaurant. My well-being is threatened by these people at any given time. I don’t know if I will run into them, be confronted by them, see them. I simply don’t know.
They mask their racism so well. They drop subtle microaggressions and I’m supposed to be okay with this.
People will tell me to get over it and accept the fact that slavery ended a long time ago. I’m not asking to live in a perfect bubble. The world is messed up. People will disagree with me. Tell me I’m wrong. Criticize my thought process. Encourage me to be better and do better. One thing you can’t do is tell me how to feel.
I am exhausted. I am hurt. Constantly having to be reminded that people simply do not value my existence because I am black. That my brothers and sisters deserve to die. That black lives don’t matter.
My feelings combusted at that given moment. I thought I was numb to it. I can handle it. It hasn’t been my friend or family member. They’re strangers. But it is constant. I can’t go a day without seeing another unarmed black man being shot or killed.  Who’s next?
I transferred to the infamous B line at Hynes Convention Center and completed my route home. Once I got in my dorm, I cried again and messaged some people to vent and rant and complain and express my frustrations.
They listened and I was reminded of the beautiful people in my life who are there for me. Â We are in this together. To my brothers and sisters, remember to take care of yourselves. Please.
I love y’all. #BlackLivesMatter