Happiness. It's relative.

We had no part in this murder, the renegade cop pulling on his black gloves to rip a Black man from his life, we were at home, having dinner, then loading the dishwasher with dirty dishes, scraping the hard parts off the frying pan, and shuffling into the living room to see the news of another Black man dead at the hands of law enforcement, but we are used to this, the rapid fire mistakes cops make, drawing their guns before they realize their childhood lessons of avoiding Black men on the street are pulling the trigger, but, no, this was slow, so slow, sleepy, a sleepy killing, a languorous murder as if the murderer had all the time in the world and he knew he could wait until it was truly over to take his hands out of his pockets and stand up.
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Photo credit: Photo by munshots on Unsplash
Recently, the death of so many black people at the hands of white cops in the USA – being a child of the Apartheid era I cringed. I was like going back in time and broke my heart.
It’s a terrible, terrible thing and feels a lot like there has been no progress at all. I hope that the Chauvin trial will result in a conviction. If it doesn’t, it will be unbelievably tragic and bad for the country.
Thank goodness I have managed to never have to witness it on video. Just knowing about it continues to hit me with deep deep grief. Not so different from lynching was it.
I can never “unsee” that video.
so incredibly horrible