will I lose another sibling because of the color of his skin?

poetry-by-sf Poems

I am not white, but my skin is light enough that I can walk down these suburban sidewalks without fearing for my life. my brother shares my blood, but he doesn't share my privilege. his skin is not light enough for him to avoid prejudice. growing up, I couldn't see how we were any different. to be honest, I still can't. but now I know that other people can. we are apart by two years and fourteen and a half inches, and we share only one parent. but even now, I can't understand why that makes us so different. the ironic part of it all is that people are afraid of him, but I'm the one with a criminal record. my brother has never seen the inside of a cell. I remember this one time when we were walking and this man pulled his truck over to the side of the road to ask me if I needed help. I looked at him and said, "this is my brother. if I needed help, he would be helping me." he stared at us in disgust and he drove away without another word. I was afraid, but my brother wasn't. I couldn't understand why he didn't react. now I realize that he was already used to it. my brother and I are adults now. we've both moved away and we don't live together. we aren't so young anymore. we aren't innocent anymore. we're still best friends, and I still can't understand what makes us so different. I still see him on the holidays. I still love my brother and he still protects me, the same way he did when we were kids. but it hurts me because I have realized that even though I love him more than anything, I can't protect him. every time the TV shows another black man shot in the streets in broad daylight, I shake with fear. I call my brother and I'm not religious but I pray that he answers. I can't calm down until I hear his voice. I can't convince myself that he's at home safe when I see so many young men who don't ever make it home. when we were kids, we lost our older brother. he drank too much and got into a car one night and we waited, but he never pulled into our driveway. we thought that he had stayed at a friend's place, or maybe he had forgotten to charge his phone. we never thought that his car was flipped over at the bottom of a hill. we never thought that our brother was under a white sheet. we never thought that we wouldn't see him again. I am so afraid that one day, my phone will ring and I will find out that my brother was shot dead because of his skin. I am so afraid that one day, I will lose another sibling and there will be another funeral and my life will have another gap in it. I am so afraid that my brother will become yet another statistic. I am so afraid that my brother will be stolen from me. I am afraid that one day, when my brother has children, they will grow up facing the same hatred that has existed for so many generations. one day, my brother might be the next face shown on the news. one day, he might have to teach his children to move slowly and to put their hands on the dashboard of their cars. one day, he might sit at home and shake with fear worrying that his child will be stolen from him. one day, I might have to look his daughter or son in their eyes and tell them that their daddy isn't going to come home. I don't know how I would survive if my brother or his children are stolen from me. I don't know if I'd even want to survive. so how is it possible for you to steal the life of my brother, or of a child, and to then walk away as if nothing happened? how could you destroy the lives of an entire family and a whole community, and continue living your life without any remorse? how do such hateful people exist in this world? and when can I stop fighting for this world to change? when will I be able to pause and take a deep breath? when will my brother and I look the same to you? will we ever stop being afraid?