some people cry. some people march. some people throw things. some people scream. some people set things ablaze. some people tear things up. some people hold signs. some people sing. some people paint. some people write. let all the people refuse to be silent.
“I contend that the cry of “black power” is, at bottom, a reaction to the reluctance of white power to make the kind of changes necessary to make justice a reality for the Negro. I think that we’ve got to see that a riot is the language of the unheard.” MLK, JR
after the announcement that darren wilson will be able to continue to exist freely in a world where he can take the life of an unarmed child, lie about it, smile about it, and continue living, while the parents and community of said child are left to pick up the pieces, i wept. i was not surprised. no one was surprised. there is always the hope that one day, some how, they will get it right. but they never do. life after life after life, we hang our heads in sadness, cry our tears in silence, and go about the business of moving on.
but one day you realize you can’t move on anymore. you can’t fake the smile that society continually tries to coax onto your face. you can’t ignore the raw emotional anguish emanating from your brothers’ and sisters’ souls. you can’t drown out the cries of the mothers and fathers who are forced to lay their babies to eternal rest. and you can’t turn a blind eye to a justice system that is anything but blind.
last night, i didn’t want to march. i didn’t want to add my voice to the screams for justice. i didn’t want to lend my body to the masses to be taunted, bruised or broken. instead, i sat in my living room in front of my computer and created. i took the images from protests across the country starting back in august when mike brown was murdered all the way until last night when his murder was exonerated. i set those images to the music of chrisette michelle and add my thoughts on the entire process.
i have no eloquent words for you. i have no profound insights on the political system. i have no predictions about what will happen. i just have my pain and my voice. i won’t be silent. i won’t let you kill me