United States

I write because words matter.
Welcome to my senior year.
Anything cow print>>>
xoxo- sk8ergirl4

Message from Writer

You don't know me and yet you do. Words are powerful to us. If they weren't would you be here? Despite the barriers which separate us on in the outside world, and despite the fact that we may not be able to speak the millions of words that fly through our heads when ignorance, kindness, beauty, or malice ensues, here we can connect and speak. Here I can say what I feel but can't say out loud, and I can say it beautifully and so can you. I can write of the seemingly ginormous drop I feel in my stomach when someone says "college", or of the lonely darkness which plagues me at 16, or of the calm I feel laying under the clouds.

When will I stop fighting?

June 4, 2020

Dear society -- that is you and me, 

George Floyd: May 25th 2020. Breonna Taylor: March 13th, 2020. Ahmaud Arbery: February 23rd, 2020.  
Salty tears are a familiar feeling to me now. Waking up to puffy eyes and heavy sighs. Lingering frustration. Leaving my home is like walking into war. It's truly the little things: the looks, the beauty standards, the lines which separate "us from them." The invisible signs that might as well still say "Whites Only". I was born free. I lived in bliss and believed that my potential was limitless. I was bold and blunt. But even then I knew. I knew I wanted to look like her. I wanted to have loose curls. I wanted to have light skin. I understood from a young age that my darkness was a barrier. I understood that brown means ugly. I understood that without straight hair I wouldn't be accepted by them. Them. The ones in power. You. The self-hate permeated through me. Although, I didn't think why -- only when? 
When will I stop crying? When will I stop calling? When will I stop fighting? When black and brown bodies stop dying at the hand of the police or "vigilantes" as they love to say. When justice stops being something I have to fight for. When I am not loud for having an opinion. When mothers stop locking their car doors at the sight of a black man. When I do not have to ask, "but does he like black girls?" When I don't have to fight twice as hard as many people on this planet to suceed. When life starts giving me lemons and I get a taste of sweet lemonade. When death isn't a thought that crosses my mind every time I see blue and red. When I can celebrate independence day with the rest of this country. When southern pride doesn't scare me. When 7% of the school being black isn't a lot. When will I stop fighting? Never so it seems.  
What is it about my brown skin that frightens you so? I bleed red as you do. I love as you do. I learn as you do. I want as you do. "Let me out" I cry, "let me out of here." This cannot be real. It can't be true that I live in a world where my skin color determines my likelyhood of success. A world where my blackness is seen as a threat. A world where the powerful have forgotten me and my people. When will I stop fighting? Never so it seems. 
"No Justice. No Peace" What do you think that means? "Riot isn't the right way... but neither is kneeling... and neither is marching... and neither is speaking." So what do we do? You forget that this country looted, and murdered, and pillaged to get where it is today. These are not riots... this is a revolution. We are dismantling the whole system.
Silence, disregard, discrediting. It did this. I did this. You did this. We are the society we love to call out so often. Personal responsibilty. Your bias and mine. Change will come. But only by society -- that is you and me.  

This was originally a free write. I changed it a little for the purposes of this prompt, and how I've been feeling.


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  • June 4, 2020 - 9:44am (Now Viewing)

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  • outoftheblue

    okay, this piece is incredible! thank you so much for writing this. your words are invaluable. <3

    9 months ago
  • sunny.v

    thank you for your words!

    9 months ago