Humpty Dumpty.
Over the weekend, three handsome brown boys sat on the porch with their one girl cousin. They were brown, not a light brown, but shades of deep chocolate browns. While I called them boys they are grown men in their early to mid twenties. They are boys to me.
They are connected to Bae. She’s their aunt and cousin. They looked to her for answers about all things, eager to ask her questions and to engage. I listened to the varying conversations happening, enjoying the different cadences and tones of their voices.
One asked for a peach cobbler. I wasn’t surprised. And later, he called me Auntie Nikki. My heart stopped. I’ve never been an aunt before. And he, unknowingly, used my childhood nickname. He made me feel like a grown up and a kid all at the same time.
They talked about the protests. They received reminders to be safe out there in the streets. They were encouraged to stay around family. Stay around people that look like you and love you.
Monday, I woke up feeling the weight of being black. Social media punched me in the face. The news punched me in the face. My boss wanted to check in. Sucker punch. The founders of my company. The VP’s. The Directors.
There’s no getting away from it.
Then the mental image of these brown boys sitting on the porch filled my head and I broke.
I broke and I don’t know how to put myself back together again.
I see what’s going on and I ask, “What the hell is going on… and why?” I grew up in the 60s with this insanity, being afraid to walk from one side of town to the other because I might get jumped… and even by my “own people.” Maybe it’s me but this crap has reared its ugly head again since Donald Trump took office and his rhetoric about making America great again has gotten the crazies in the country all riled up and reviving that “a white America is the right America” bullshit that has been a black eye for this country for the longest time.
The current social and even political situation ain’t helping; the coronavirus has us confined and just dealing with that alone is putting people on edge and then the incidents that have been in the news just serve to push everyone over the edge. The police cannot be trusted. Governments seem powerless to keep and maintain order and fulfill their promise to keep all of us safe. We don’t help matters with our chants that “Black lives matter,” not because they don’t matter but we forget that all lives matter… or they’re supposed to matter. Still, we’ve always been a country divided – it’s just odd that we’re divided together and, yes, that sound weird… but this is who we are as Americans and who we’ve always been.
Should this crap break us? Make us live in fear? It shouldn’t but it does and I will say that a life lived in fear isn’t worth living. It’s hard not to be afraid and harder for some not to feel broken but I submit to you and anyone reading this is that if we continue to be afraid and made to feel broken, those who want us to be fearful and broken win. And that can never be allowed. It makes you feel… helpless because there’s little one can do. Protesting, well, we’re always protesting something but to see the senseless rioting and looting? Damn. We still haven’t learned to be better in this. Rabble rousers coming in from out of state to sow violence and chaos and inciting others to loot and destroy places, people, and things and just because it’s not where they lay their head at night? Unthinkable… but not unexpected because this is how we are, too.
All any of us can do is to watch our backs and when we can, watch each other’s backs. Protect you and yours at all times and to the best of your ability. To not live a worthless and fearful life and to not let the insanity of others break you. And know that you’re not alone in this. I don’t live where you do but I got your back and if I can help you put yourself back together, I’m here for you.
Be strong.
Aww, Pup, hugs, my love!