A black life…or a camera

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I went to take Chanel out this morning.

When I came back the president of the building HOA was in the lobby.

She and another neighbor were there and we all said good morning.

But it wasn’t a good morning...even though I so desperately wanted it to be.

She began telling us that McDonald’s is closed and there’s no way to get to River North

She began telling us how she felt about the looting.

I simply replied...no one listened to our cries for help for 400 years so I don’t know what anyone expected.

She began telling us a story of a camera shop…

...it had been in a man's family for 3 generations

...camera shops are already dying businesses

…the owner saw “them” coming and grabbed his grandpas first camera

...the owner ran and watched “them” from across the street as “they” bashed in windows

She began telling us this is so sad b/c many businesses were going to re-open today.

I replied...is a camera worth more than a life? 

She said this isn’t the way to get the message across.

I replied...it’s been 10 years since Treyvon Martin’s death and no one has helped us.

My mother has to worry about her children walking down the street b/c no one has helped us.

I have to fear for my life everytime I go for a run b/c no one has helped us.

And that’s the reality I live with so I don’t care about a camera shop

I hustled off tearing up.

Other neighbors were in the pathway to the elevators...neighbors I know.

I couldn’t look them in the face

Tears were streaming. I was dragging Chanel. I couldn’t breath.

I cried for 25 minutes straight in my apartment.

I screamed in pain from the crying...pain from knowing the majority of america thinks a FUCKING CAMERA is worth more than my life.

I cried so hard I wondered if I woke up the other neighbors.

I cried so hard I had to get into child’s pose to try and stop the pain from it.

I cried so hard I didn’t even know I had all that in me.

I cried so hard I couldn’t even hear Chanel’s cries.  

I prayed.

I wondered if I’d get removed from the building since I’m a renter and the woman concerned about a camera shop is the HOA president.

I wondered why I allowed myself to live in a white neighborhood where this is always a risk to my mental health...oh, yea it’s b/c this is where all the resources are.

I wondered how I could get back to happy...like I was when I woke up.

I wondered how I could stop the sobbing...stop the flood of emotions.

I wondered how I’d be able to work today...to continue to make a paycheck when I didn’t even know if I could pull myself together.

I wondered how I got here...how we got here. 

I told myself “Don’t let them steal your joy. Don’t do it! They don’t deserve it.”

I photographed myself so I can always remember this moment. Always remember.

And I thought I could just take my dog out for a walk...I guess for a moment I forgot I was black and at constant risk of impact. The constant expectation to fall in line with white thoughts is unbearable. I can’t. I can no longer be complacent. I can no longer be silent. I couldn’t stop the words from coming out “Is a black life worth less than a camera?” And just like that...I became the angry black woman in a building full of white people.

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Juneteenth…Still Not Free

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Retirement…from being a white educator