Not too long ago, I wrote about death and how there’s literally a dead opossum decaying on the other side of my yard’s chain link fence.
Then not too long after that racists in louisville came out with some hate-mongering propaganda that made it clear that they’re not into activists, “minorities” or “race baiters.” First of all, I hadn’t heard the phrase, “Race Baiter” since like 2011. So not only are they belligerently ignorant, they don’t even know how to come correct with a current insult.
That dead opossum just keeps coming to me as a metaphor.
Most recently I was wondering if the universe was trying to give me a sign. A warning that terrible news was coming. The outside-near-my-house animal I honestly like the least came to my front lawn and died. Not only did it pay me a visit, I had to tolerate it’s stench for at least a week.
But after the smell subsided, I started approaching it.
I would peer over the fence and look directly at it, fascinated by how we all just end up back in the earth somehow. Our time here is temporary and our fights are really meaningless. Not in that sense that because we are tiny specks in a seemingly infinite universe of stars and who knows what else– in the sense that if we are tiny parts of a huge system, why not use that energy for good? Why don’t we just enjoy ourselves?
I would like to think that soon, after the pungent and terrifying stench of this letter from the FOP starts to subside, I’ll be able to peer over the proverbial fence at the rotting corpse of hate. I’d like to think that what initially scared me into tears so deep that every breath thereafter was a double gasp for air. I couldn’t breathe. I sought comfort in hoodies while I hid here in our apartment on the couch, drinking iced tea.
But it is the opossum’s shell laying out in the grass, food for the worms and slugs. It is the opossum out in the rain, pelted by water to cleanse it into the ground.
I want a peaceful resolution. I don’t want to see anyone get hurt, whether I care about them or simply hold them in unconditional positive regard. But this is not how anyone is supposed to live. No one should feel what we feel. I never truly identified with people who’s governments actively sought to exterminate them. I always thought that because this is America and I have Rights that I was somehow exempt to being terrorized on the soil my forefathers turned over with iron and the sweat on their backs.
I thought because my grandfather walked with dignity as self-respecting white people called him a boy and a nigger in front of his wife and children that I would never have to suffer such disrespect. I thought because my mother held her fist up high in the 70′s that I would be a liberated black woman and not have to fear persecution in the workplace or disrespect from any man. I thought that because my ancestors got their freedom that I was free. I thought that because I work in the field of loving people and uplifting our spirits together for positive change that I was safe.
That is a motherfucking illusion.
Our freedom is a thin veil, behind which the most evil demons plan how they will torture us next from behind the walls of tall buildings, wearing their disguises of suits and positions of power. They dance in front of our veils wearing uniforms telling us that they plan to protect us while they carry guns on their hips, reaching for them while their tasers collect dust and their batons are left at the station.
Our police are militarized, and I’ve known for years that the only reason the US military spends so much damn money on “Defense” is for *US.* It’s hard medicine to swallow, but nobody told Neo that the red pill would be easy, y’all.
This is all very scary, and it’s what I’m trying to cope with. But that doesn’t mean that a realistic outlook for change doesn’t exist. Why should these ignorant racists write such a threatening letter? Because they’re scared.
They’ve been scared since 1865. They are scared that all the evil they’ve tossed onto the people of this world will come back to them. They are afraid that the poisoned energy they put out and the blood they have spilled will become their own. They fear a world where they are not supreme.
That’s cool. Fuck ‘em. That’s not the outcome I’m after, but if that’s what wakes them up in the morning, fine.
I’ll continue the work I’m apparently supposed to do. Telling stories, reminding others that they have the same amount of power in them as the people behind the veil. We are all important. We all carry weight. We are strong. We are WORTHY.
My chest is tight, and I am still gasping for air, but I’m not going to be a possum on the ground in the fight for liberation of my people.
It is love and justice that shall prevail. And hate will rot on the ground, soaked by rain and the remainder of our tears.