SIX TIMES!
WHERE ARE THE ANSWERS?
WHERE IS THE JUSTICE?
Well, he's black and dead so there won't be any.
We can't un-shoot him.
Shhh, America. Shhh. Go back to sleep.
Let's pretend this was all a strange dream.
In the morning we will pump our veins with high fructose corn syrup and our bellies with ammonia-soaked dollar menu meats and catch up on trending dog-shit.
We will not concern ourselves with the grief or heartbreak of his mother.
We will talk about his shoplifting.
Two of my siblings were caught shoplifting when they were 18. They were given stern lectures. My mother never had to worry that one of her foolish teenagers might be shot by police. We are white. Of course she didn't have that fear. And even if one of my mother's teenager's had been shot by a police officer, can you imagine the public outrage? Shoplifting would have had NO place in the post-death dialogue. But Lesley McSpadden has to listen to the callous dialogue of strangers who wish to assign blame for his death to her son's age-appropriate rebellion.
I am so sorry, Mike Brown. You didn't deserve to die. Your death sucks. And exposed how scary things are right now. So scary that we can't walk down the street without sometimes getting shot six times. You shouldn't be dead. You should have had your chance to become a man and live out your life.
Since I still have the chance to live out my life, I have to keep raising my voice.
I want peace.
I want us to treat each other with respect and as equals. I propose a blessing, a toast, a moment of reflection:
Here's to the past, looking back to make sure mistakes are not repeated.
Here's to the present, working for change.
Here's to the future, while we're still alive to look forward to it.
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