(Written by someone who’s most dear to me.)
Being Black in America is consuming public murder after disgraced death after character assassination live, on a loop, in real time, all the time. Being Black in America is picking up whatever is left of your spirit and continuing on in a world where the next day might be the one you become too scary, too monstrous, too much of a threat. Being Black in America is knowing a system never intended to protect you can never technically fail you.
Being Black in America is balancing being carefree while being vigilant, being poppin’ while being pillaged. Being Black in America is being tired and exhausted and numb and too tired and too exhausted to be numb.
Being Black in America is existing, breathing, living as an act of defiance, of protest, of perseverance.