This will probably not be the last time I post this particular blog because I believe it’s that important. I know that eventually there will be misconceptions about many of the stories, new clips, etc. that I post so I wanted to provide clarity for my readers:
The goal is to not sweep the victims under a rug as just another news story. People are dying for no reason. They mattered because it could you or me tomorrow.
The goal is to make us think about our individual roles in how we can make a difference to stop the violence as it pertains to our own close-knit circles and, what we can do to help change the tide. Let’s stop ignoring the signs we DO see.
The goal is to put a spot light on law enforcement’s unnecessary violence and killing of our Black men– in terms of racial profiling.
The goal is to stop denying that racism exists and acknowledge the “elephant in the room” that unfortunately, our white friends sometimes won’t admit.
That being said, this blog will NOT be a tool to tear down Blacks and paint Whites as racist. Racism exists in this country and will probably be around beyond my lifetime. I am a Black woman who cares about the plight of my people and who is tired of seeing anyone being brutalized and murdered. I am a Black woman who has loving relationships with white friends. I am a Black woman who spent 10 years of my life with—and married to—a White man. I am a Black woman who has a Black son who has been the victim of police brutality and harassment, has been shot at, and actually shot by a child who didn’t know why he did it! I am a woman who is Black. I am a woman who has experienced violence first hand and this blog is to say enough is enough. My logo is black, white, and red for a reason. Why? It’s because we look different on the outside but the same red color courses through our veins.
The Civil rights act didn’t become successful until ALL people—regardless of color—stood up and said enough is enough. This blog asks the question: is that you?
One of my favorite quotes is “Every life touches a life”. I’ve been telling my son that since he was a child. In my own perhaps naïve way, I drank the cool-aid of “do unto others…’ that my parents fed me. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make a difference to me as I came of age. After all, no one wants to be on the receiving end of someone else’s selfish or cruel actions. But the violence in Chicago and elsewhere in the US go beyond simple selfishness. We (especially Black people) are killing each other.
In my finite mind, this is a crazy phenomenon – man gets angry, man picks up gun, man shoots gun, someone falls dead, man walks away. Murder is as old as time itself but lately, it’s out of control. Of course, there are a myriad of reasons. Examples of this are absent fathers and negligent mothers, lack of jobs and education, physical and sexual abuse, gangs, and drugs/alcohol. But even with all the obstacles we face in our society, there has to be a way to the basic “do unto others” creed.
Each of us, by our very existence, can affect someone else on the other side of the world. How can this be so? I had a friend once who was going through a tough time. We talked things over and at the end of the call I told her “no matter what you’re going through just know that I love you and tomorrow is another chance to turn it around.” She called me a week later and told me that she was talking to her cousin who was stationed overseas. She told him the same thing and he told her that he needed to hear that because he was contemplating suicide. A word of encouragement to ONE person made its way across the ocean to another person who needed to hear the same thing.
We take our place in this world for granted– myself included. Let’s change that.
Who will speak?
Who will speak for the tears that fall without a voice–
Grieving laughter, and kisses—without heartbeats or choices?
Who will speak when anguish walks among the broken shards of yesterday–
Leaving seed that death cultivated by bullet or, one whose lodestar has violently faded?
Who will speak for Jasmine Curry, Marcel Pearson, Bruce Wright, William Allen, Tonya Gunn, Joey Henderson, Jaynisha Scheffer, Cassius White?
Who speaks now?
Who speaks now when blood indiscriminately hews burrows into the soul of the city?
The silence is a sonic boom reverberating through the pain of the fallen
For their lives were just yesterday’s news—chains broken forever rippling throughout mankind
Who speaks now?
Who will speak for Robert Cotton, Anthony Hobson, Kezon Lamb, Donald Ray, Schiquille Slater, Joel Bentley, Deandre Brown, Shaquille Ross, Corey Hudson, Shambreyh Barfield?
Hugs that will never again be felt, a helping hand that will never be shared, and a calling never to be fulfilled
Every life touches a life
Links shattered in life’s chain and their absence will never be replaced
Who will speak?
Who will speak for the nameless and faceless ones whose names escape us when the channel turns?
Who. Will. Speak for Dakari Pargo, Jimero Starling, Lafayette Walton, Michael Patton, Ronnie Amos, Alfred Barnett, Tony Ervin, Albert Glover, Eddie Jones, Sonny Ortiz, Sharon Bonds, Andre Knight?
Who will speak for them as we fluff our pillow and be thankful it wasn’t our mother, father, son, or daughter?
Who will speak for Ovadiyah Chandler, Christopher Jones, Stanley Levy, Dekarlos Scott, Taurus Williams, Demarcus Boswell, Daniel Jones, Maurice Wooden, Brandon Peterson, Louis Winn, Dewey Knox, Damian Williams, Brett Ewing, Paris Brown, LaQuisha Hickman, Nykole Loving, Kennyone Pendelton ?
Who will speak?
As the wind braces for impact as bullets rape its peace—unable to shield the lung, the artery, or the brain from penetration?
Who speaks in order to quell the anger and savagery as it claims that which is more precious than diamonds?
Who will speak for, Brian Weekly, Carnesha Fort, Alante Vallejo, Derrick Bowens, Ronald Holliman, Darrien Jordan, David M. Hernandez, Denero Appleton, Eric Kall, DeAngelo Russell, Donald Williams, Nicholas Keener, McArthur Swindle?
Who will speak?
Who will speak with action that rails against the lies that say wrong place- wrong time?
Place being where they are at a moment. Wrong place their home? Wrong place their school? Wrong place the playground? Oh no, maybe it’s the walk to the store, or sitting in a car?
Yes, wrong place is any place…
Whose wrong place? Charles D. Short’s? Betty Howard’s? Craig Mitchell’s? Malcolm Stuckey’s? Paul Pyron’s? Vincent Simmons’? Lance Stanton’s? Monte Tillman’s? Arron Feazell’s? Dashawn Johnson’s? Corteze Reed’s?
Or Time defined as “the system of those sequential relations that any event has to any other, as past, present, or future. Wrong time at noon? Wrong time at 3pm? Wrong time at 11pm? 6am?
Of course, wrong time is any time…
Whose wrong time? Maurice Paschal’s? Kevin Diaz’s? Brian McKinney’s? Robert Waldon’s? Lewis Jenkins’s? Juwan Williams’? Leonard Goldman’s? Kayshaun Hall’s, Ashley Mendoza’s? Kendall Floyd’s? Charles Lee’s? Aaron Rushing’s?
As we contemplate the significance of time and place, faces are passing away. For-e-ver.
Who will speak?
As the footfalls of terror march down our streets?
Or for those whom the blotter calls reciting names as the dead man falls.
As the media portrays us as one to be mistrusted after all, we are but animals in this world.
Some sold drugs, others gang-banged, some raised hell with every breath,
There’s also the straight A students, babies, grandparents— mix them all together—it doesn’t really matter
They – like we—are ALL blood, bone, flesh and spirit. Life interrupted
No longer among us
Who will speak for Gabriel Rios, Victoria McManus, Vaughn Holeman, Cesar Nieves, Xavier Tripp, Summer Moore, William Lomax, Chasteddy Blocker, Jajuan Porter, Gerald Calhoun, William Bailey, Terrance McNeal, Jabari Davis,
Because their loss is our failure as a civilized existence
They die as we exhort “not this neighborhood”; “they deserve it”; “it’s not my problem”
As we turn our backs on a dying generation
Our children run for cover from indiscriminate munitions
That rain down upon them, etching their name as it meets its mark
Who will speak?
Who will speak for the hundreds lost in this city
As we cover our ears from the screams of the crying and dying
Who will speak for them? Rickey Hayes, Antonio Mendez, Jeromy Ellis
After their eyes glass over and consciousness forever cascades to black
The Windy City, Chi-Town- Chiraq is a new moniker spoken with irony and fear
Its violent heart pulsating in tandem with its namesake across the Atlantic
Decimating all in its wake
ChiRaq, ChiRaq, Chiraq
Who will speak?
Who will speak for the tears that fall without a voice–
Grieving laughter, and kisses—without heartbeats or choices?
They matter because we matter.
Who will speak?
Who Will Speak 