Why are you so silent? Where is your anger? Why don’t you march the streets carrying your guns as if they’re treasures won from the spoils of war? Isn’t that how you treat them? You’re warriors protecting what’s yours. Your AMERICAN RIGHT! Preached for hundreds of years. So I ask, where are you? You were at the Capital. You marched the streets of D.C.
Right now, your feet should be sore from your warn-down shoes that have been marching for days. The numbness should be running from the tips of your sweat-filled toes up the backs of your overworked tight calves. Right now, I should hear strained voices. Voices that strained from yelling and dry from never going silent.
An innocent man died trying to protect himself from what he thought was a home invasion. He was awake for less than 5 seconds and died within 10 seconds. Yet, you remain silent. It’s not the sound of a pin drop that I hear. I hear the undeniable proof that black lives do not matter. You see, this isn’t something new to me. I’ve realized this through the countless deaths of my people.
Amir Locke was a rightful gun owner. His death is another reminder that any of us (BIPOC) can become hashtags in less than 2 seconds. Your privilege protects you from this reality. To deny this golden ticket is to deny the pain and suffering that BIPOC must deal with every day. Speak up. Help us. We can not do this alone.
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