You know what, I’m just gonna mentally sit this one out.
That can work right?
I’m gonna go to this cute K24 and sip on some white tears.
Hold up, AM I SITTING AT BREAKFAST WITH MY FRIEND CARRYING ON A CONVERSATION ABOUT WORK AND LIFE WHILE SIMULTANEOUSLY GRIEVING IN A STATE OF SHOCK AND HOPELESSNESS? WHY I AM…
I’ve always been great at multitasking.
This isn’t the “read this if you are white and want to understand racism or black people feelings”
If your best friend’s mother just died of lung cancer, would you ask your best friend to explain lung cancer…at the funeral?
We are also running out of analogies and apologies so I’m not sorry for using a bad cancer analogy. I’m done analogizing. Done educating. I’m a comedian. Not a African-American Grief Studies of Black Psychological Sciences at the local university.
There’s SOO MANY analogists. I applaud their efforts: trying to help people who don’t understand why Americans are mad at POLICE KILLING PEOPLE.
This isn’t the “read this if you are white and you want pointers on how to make ‘so they just killed another one of y’all’ small talk with your one black friend” either.
This is Lisa Beasley – the person just truly flabbergasted.
This is Lisa Beasley shocked but not shocked at North Carolina Congressman. Elected officials don’t care that unarmed citizens of America are getting SHOT AND KILLED.
You ever take a two day break from social media (not on purpose – you just so happened to be living enough life that your thumb didn’t graze over apps as usual) and say “Ooh I can’t wait to see what my friends are getting into. What has everybody been up….oh wait…ok ok again. I’ll get through this one…wait tf? Somebody else..again”
I barely make it to the 3rd stage of grief when it happens again.
So here I am in my various stages of grief and as usual the conversation shifts to focusing on the wrong people that are mad for the wrong reasons.
I’m mad that people are mad that people are mad at POLICE SHOOTING AND KILLING INNOCENT PEOPLE. A LOT.
Why you mad I’m mad!?
My stomach hurts, my heart beats, my face gets wet with tears, and on days where I didn’t unload on Facebook or cry, there is just a deep sadness that settles over my entire body.
But I still have to go about my day business as usual and muster up the energy to look this cute (see pic and agree) because if I don’t, I might crumble in the middle of the street and not move for days. People will think I’m starting a new protest and join me or not. I’ll sit there because I’m actually just weak and tired. My black girl magical cloak has bullet holes in it and I can’t deal. My back-up black girl magical cloak is in the cleaners getting the blood removed. Then it has to go to a seamstress because white men keep pulling it in different directions trying to bottle up my magic and sell it in the form of signature braids and booty flesh.
I truly think people don’t understand that police officers should not shoot and kill unarmed people.
People concentrate so much on the protests, it’s like, do they forget why people are protesting?
One day it hits you. You’re driving in your car and you think “No, but I REALLY could get shot dead by the police before the sun goes down.” That becomes an actual thought.
This is the country I live in.
I feel insane. Wake up, hurt. Make coffee happy but then remember and by the time I’m adding creamer I’m crying. Then I turn on the shower and I’m fine and then I’m ENRAGED because I’m out of body wash and patience. That’s just 5 minutes of my morning.
I chant young, gifted, and black to keep my spirits up but I am indeed black, fragile, and traumatized.
Plus, Obama about to leave. I can’t.