What We Can't Leave Behind

 

Photo from newstatesman.com 

A few times each day I seclude myself to the confnes of my bedroom, bathroom or office space and scroll through all of my social media accounts. Today it has mostly been Facebook. I've seen the usual, Happy New year posts. The posts that tell everyone that they're leaving 2020 behind them and looking forward to great things. Many are gathering to have New Year's day meals and making promises to do better than they did the year before. 

I really enjoyed reading all of those. I did however come across one that struck me as one that wasn't so happy and positive. Although we don't want to start our new year off with negative things and thoughts...some things just can't be ignored or forgotten. Nor should they be.

My daughter just happened to be on a Netflix binge today and happened upon the 2013 film Fruitvale Station. Its a biographical film based on the death of Oscar Grant, a young man who was killed by a BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) police officer at the Fruitvale station in Oakland, California. 

We've seen senseless killings...well I'll just say murders like this all around the country since then. And it isn't just our young black men. It has spread to include our women as well. 

Her post sparked my attention because last night, which was New Year's Eve, I did NOT want my son to leave the house. As I lay in my bed watching movies with my god-son, I refused to take pain medicine because there was no way I was closing my eyes until I knew all of my kids were safe inside of their homes.

 It was 1am and he was not home yet. I knew he was safe because I would text every now and then with my usual question..."You Good?". Each time I would anxiously await for the little air bubbles to appear to read him say, "Yes mommy I'm good." 

Around 2am I saw the lights pull into the driveway and I was able to breath.

This feeling is all too familiar with many but it isn't just the holidays that the brutal emotion of fear floods our minds and bodies. It's everyday. And I'm afraid that that fear will never go away.

The part of the post that made me cringe was:

We can't defend ourselves.

We can't be out for the holidays.

We can't wear hoodies.

We can't call the police for help.

We can't know our rights.

We can't arm ourselves.

We can't take short cuts home.

We can't question the police about our arrest.

We can't sleep at home.

We can't play in the park.

We can't stand outside convenience stores.

We can't go for a jog.

We can't stand our ground.

We can't do shit.

To read the full post, click the link below.

Fruitvale Station Facebook Post