We will never forget the names of those
Who should have been known for so much more.

Sandra Bland. George Floyd. Tamir Rice. Riah Milton. James Scurlock. Rem'Mie Fells. Breonna Taylor. Too many to name. 400 years.

We remember them for all they could have been.
Not martyrs. Murdered.
People living and then gone forever.

White supremacy is not poetic. It is a blunt instrument.
We must fight it every day.

Please write back to me and tell me how to protest,
Because I'm terrified of running into a bad cop, or privileged white people thinking they can make a citizens arrests

Please give me something else to do since you don't want me to take a knee,
To silently protest while you sing an anthem that represents you but doesn't represent me

Please teach me how protest ,
So you don't have to reproach me for my lack of decorum,
Give me something that will change the outcome
Cause people are dying and it seems you don't care , how come ?

We defend the indefensible crimes of those paid to protect us, and expect us to sit idly by as they **** us,
Turn on the news and watch
Watch them defend the good ole' boys in blue as they go through our history and berate us

Dear white people,
Why can I not yell and scream ?
To make up for the air taken from George Floyd's lungs as he whimpered I can't breathe

Breathe, an unequivocal human right
A knee to the neck, crushing the passage way,
from his eyes was gone the light
The sight, myself a black man that will raise black sons how can I not stare in fright?

Fright , fear in my heart from the sight
The new Jim Crow or the old one?
No ropes but we are still lynched
No dogs chasing us but still the same plight

Dear white white church,
You're probably the biggest problem of all.
All the political capital and still you don't answer our call.
So focused on abortion rights but don't seem to care about black babies when they get a little tall

Jesus was a man of color unjustfully killed
Jesus was a man of color unjustfully killed

Every black man and woman killed an image of Christ but it seems you've willed
Yourself into believing that God doesn't see
Your silence, you've been billed!
And no penance can pay the cost you owe
In the pockets of politicians
You've gone so low
Picking a party over people
You thought we wouldn't know ?
Its no surprise that Donald Trump would go to a church posing with a Bible
Appeasing you so
You fill his pockets with dollars so that the calamity never ends

Dear white allies
We appreciate you answering the call
The problem doesn't directly affect you but still you stand and stand tall
You are our professors, elders, neighbors , church members you give your energy , your passion, your privilege and you use it all

Dear white allies,
We're happy to call you friends
The work is far from done
Its never fun but friendships like this never end.

Since I was Born, I was sick.
The World had tried to choke out my Light since before I had Life. Since before I could fully think, it never wanted me around.
So much loss and pain just for one child, so today I must use the Life I gained to throw everything I have back at The World.
I refuse to let my Life be choked out by A World that never wanted to see me Rise. I shall Stand and Fight to make The World better.
Ever since I was a little Black Boy I have watched myself die.
It started with Trayvon, my big brother who died trying to Live Life and buy a snack. I died again with Tamir Rice, my little brother died for being Youthful and for being a child. And I kept dying and watching brothers, sisters, cousins, uncles, fathers, and mothers of mine all die. I was forced to watch my Family die. I have seen myself die in all of these people over and over again. Whether we Lived in the same era or not. I saw myself assassinated and silenced by the people who were supposed to help me bring Change over and over again. I saw myself beaten for sitting down in the wrong place, I saw myself marching to make a difference. I have seen myself choked out, shot in the streets, lynched, and more.
I see my face on all of these men who have died for no reason, I always believe I’m next. Ever since I was a young boy.
Even now as an “adult” I never know how much time I have left. There are days when I have fun and Live every single piece of Life and think, “Today could be my last day of Life”. There are other days where it’s not as great and I think the same thing.
My father turns 50 soon and knowing what I know about Black men, I am scared. I turn 20 soon and knowing what I know about Black men, I am beyond horrified.
On some days I can’t handle knowing all of this and on other days I know if I don’t handle this there won’t be enough people to step up who want to drastically change This World that has been choking me out.
I just wish that my Black Life Mattered so I could Live each day without fear.

Feel the fire’s flame
cutting through our nights,
its burning heat
glowing in our eyes.

Feel the teeth grinding,
lungs heaving,
knuckles cracking,
slides racking…
Fear’s vibrations
colliding—dividing—
and choosing sides.

Stop.

Turn away,
relax your breath,
and adjust your eyes…

Can’t you see the face
hidden in the shadow
cast by its fired night?
Can’t you see its narrowed
eyes, the tight smile
emanating from a twisted soul;
the mind that’s taken Center
while we burn at its poles;
the eyes that know
our fractured factions
keep us weak, in conflict,
unorganized and opposed?

The identities we’ve been served
keep us forever in chains,
ensuring the blood we spill
is spilt in vain…
that change is only a slogan
an old institution
with a new name.

We are not black nor white,
we are not left nor right,
we are neither American
nor un-American:
we stand as souls of no nation.
We are people, we are lives—
lives that have been
distracted,
disenfranchised,
and confused.
We are people
whose attention and energies
have been compromised.
We are lives
who have been divided
by the rhetoric of a power
that wishes to harvest
our spirit,
our vitality,
to serve its interests.

Join your fires,
join your minds.
See yourself
in all who you are not…
for you live within them,
and they within you.

We fight for freedom,
not a flag;
for Being,
not for land.

When this truth is felt,
united we will stand.
Not as numbers in a system—
nor factions divided
by city blocks—
but as Beings,
as lives,
whose chance at
a new future
has been restored.

Take pride, Black girl, in
Your eyes—keen, ablaze
Thick, comb-breaking hair in puffs

We were meant to be,
Here, in this place, now
Though told we’re others, outside.

                                                                             Take pride, Black boy, in
                                                                    Your smile—wide and bright
                                                                   Long, wiry arms, perfect hugs

                                                                                     We deserve the sky,
                                                                          Clouds, sun, stars and all,
                                                                Earthward they pull as we soar.


                                       You’re worthy of life
                                           But guilty at birth
                             Of living while Black—full stop.

                                          The power in you
                                        Cannot be measured
                                Narrow your life for no one

                                          Quietly screaming,
                                    Under masks and knees
                              Slowly on we trudge forward.

Say it with your chest.

Black trans lives matter.
Black trans lives matter.
Black trans lives matter.

There’s a lot of reasons
to say
No
to being in the streets.

Anxiety.
It’s a work day.
It’s dangerous.
What are you even doing there?

And you still go.
It feels more right
than being at your desk job
in a 80% white county.

So you make the drive.
You write numbers to call on your arm
tentatively,
hoping you don’t need them,
but it’s too late to turn back anyway.

Somehow this feels right.

And it’s hot.
The sweat is melting
the numbers off your arm.

And you’re hungry
because you didn’t eat lunch
and didn’t pack anything.

And your ex is here,
and you can deal with it,
but it’s still uncomfortable.

And you don’t know most people here
and there are so many white people,
and what are you doing here?

And in spite of everything
somehow this feels right.

You stand to the side.
Sometimes you can’t hear the speeches.
Sometimes you have to sit down.
Sometimes you lose track
of the friends you came with.

And there are
so many reasons not to be here.
But you’re here now
and you can’t turn back.

Say it with your chest

Black trans lives matter.
Black trans lives matter.
Black trans lives matter.

And you join the crowd to march.
You don’t know
where you’re going
but you’re going.

And as you march
at some point
it doesn’t matter
how many people are white,
because at some point
you feel it.

You don’t live here
but you feel it:
community.

And you are quiet,
recently wrote a whole article about it,
about how protests could never be your thing.
But then
you remember
what a black trans organizer said
before the march:

Say it with your chest.

Black trans lives matter.
Black trans lives matter.
Black trans lives matter.

And then
you are shouting too.
You are weaving through cars,
you are sitting down in the streets,
and cars are honking in solidarity,
and workers raise their fists
from behind closed doors,
and anxiety melts away,
because this,

this is important.

And it is hot outside,
your feet hurt,
you haven’t eaten for hours,
you’re thirsty,
and there were so many reasons
to stay home.

But you showed up.

And eventually
the march ends,
and you learn
that the police didn’t know
what to do about all of you.

And your ex thinks
you’re flushed with panic
but it’s not panic,
it’s adrenaline.

And your friend
thanks you for showing up,
and tells you
that your trans life matters.

You are not black,
you are brown,
and this is not about you,
you’ve always known this,

but for once
you feel validated,
you feel community.

And will there be victory
in your life?
You don’t know.
But your friend is waving the trans flag
out the window
and you are going to Burger King
and making fun
of white people,
of the police who couldn’t keep up,
and it’s enough.

And this was not without risk,
but this feels right,
and anyway,
if there is no risk
there is no reward.

This day will be over,
but remember
today,
and every day:

Say it with your chest.

Black trans lives matter.
Black trans lives matter.
Black trans lives matter.