Hi.

It’s been a while.

Since I last sat down to blog in January, the world has seen drastic and violent change. In March, coronavirus began to devastate communities around the US, specifically black populations and our immuno-compromised neighbors and friends. Many countries have imposed shutdowns to the public, small business and artists have been devastated, and unemployment rates are at an all-time high. To say that times are hard would be an understatement.

Coronavirus has changed a lot for me. It has changed the way I interact with friends, the way I grocery shop, the methods by which I go and come from work. The way I work. As a poet many of my events have been canceled or moved to online platforms like Zoom. Things that I’ve been greatly looking forward to have been postponed. This is the story for many of us that work and live in artists communities, It has been devastating to watch my friends lose their jobs and struggle to make rent while corporations get massive bailouts and CEO’s and celebrities remain unscathed and insulated by their millions.

If one thing has happened through these times I have definitely become more radicalized. One thing that I’ve found myself questioning is the idea of reform vs. justice. Reform is based on the principle that our current system can be fixed. An American system built off of anti-blackness, white supremacy, and capitalism cannot simply be “fixed”, it must be dismantled. We will only see justice when this dismantling occurs.. This means a world where healthcare is affordable and accessible to all, one where all essential workers would have gotten free COVID-19 testing and appropriate amounts of paid sick leave to deal with themselves or loved ones. This pandemic has illuminated how we care for capital more than the lives of citizens. Terms like “essential worker” are only endearing phrases, like when your employer calls your team a “family”: a way to pacify you as you are robbed of rights and wages. COVID has shaken a lot of people to their core, some for the wrong reasons. Many cities have seen lockdown protests. I inadvertently walked into one myself and saw as Trump and white supremacists flags flew, horns honked, signs demanding “reopen PA” hung out of car windows. Many protesters armed themselves and demanded access to capital buildings and elected officials. Crying tyranny, they demanded we reopen so they could go to the gym or get a haircut. None of these protests were met with violence from the police, the same cannot be said for the Black Lives Matter protests that have occurred over the past week.

After the shocking and violent deaths of Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, George Floyd, and Tony McDade, Black Americans cried enough. It was too much death for us all to carry in one month, too much injustice during times of mass deaths due to COVID across our nation. Protests started in Minneapolis, the city where George Floyd was choked to death for 8 minutes by a city police officer. There is a video of the murder that you can watch, I have not save a few seconds from autoplay scrolling on certain social media platforms. Breonna Taylor was asleep and the police had entered the wrong house. Ahmaud was running for his life. These murders and the lack of justice around them have led to violent protests across all 50 states. Many brands, organizations, and companies have issued Black Lives Matter statements, there was a #blackout on social media this Tuesday. The question of the value of Black lives seems to be on everyone’s lips these days. But what is being done?

In every instance where protest erupted into violence, police forces were the instigators. Cities across america have seen million dollar increases in police budgets over the years, leading to local police forces having military-grade gear and weaponry. When a group of cops comes to a protest decked out in riot helmets and shields, toting tear gas and batons, only one population has come ready for violence. Just the other night in my city, peaceful protesters were isolated and attacked with tear gas by police while snipers sat on top of a nearby Target. This is the America we are living in right now. Where cities are imposing curfews on citizens and SWAT vehicles and military personnel patrol our streets.

Let me be loud and clear here: the only way to stop police shootings is to not have a police force. This evolution of the slave patrol will never and has never been about justice and protecting people. At least 40 percent of households where police live experience domestic violence. If they can’t even protect the people in their households how are they supposed to protect us? They weren’t made to. Protect and Serve is an empty phrase. The idea that there are good cops is false. Your favorite cop shows and movies have lied to you, they have conditioned you to believe everyone who tries to hold cops accountable are the enemy. The people in the streets, whether they are laying down or breaking windows, are on your side. Never forget that.

Black people are grieving and raging, I know for certain I am. Part of my duty as a writer is to document that rage and grief and frustration. Even as my own tears fight to come to the surface, I must document the blood and tears of my friends and comrades. Many of us have not been able to write through this. I am fortunate enough to have the fire in me to continue writing, whether that be personal work or political work. Part of my practice is letting the word come however they see fit. I don’t try to editorialize myself or dull down my edges. If I want to say fuck the police I say fuck the police. I normally don’t curse in my poetry or mention certain words but now feels like a time for such bluntness. Of course, I revise and make better, but I allow the rawness of my emotion to be captured in its moment. This blog post is such a space. My grief feels like it expands light-years through and beyond my body. It cannot be contained or coraled. My heart is broken again and again for every black person I know and love, and even those I don’t. To live under these conditions is breaking. If I don’t write, the shards of me float away, they cause harm, get in the eyes and gums. When I write I get to center those pieces again, reorganize them without sanding their edges. They make a strange patchwork but one that I find myself in, one I find pride in.

If you are a writer, don’t feel obligated to be productive during this time. Remember that pushing yourself to makemakemake through grief is a pressure of capitalism. You don’t have to create, you can just be. Sometimes just breathing is enough. If you are writing, especially if you are a journalist, don’t let up on that pen. In a time where we get our news in real-time through live feeds and twitter, It is crucial that journalist keep their integrity and report on all the facts, not just what political figures or police are reporting. Remember to love who you love with all of your heart, don’t shy away from showing it just because you’re shy or afraid. You never know when someone could be gone from you.

Rest in Power to George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery, and Tony McDade.

None of us are free until all of us are free

Until next time comrades

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