Let’s Talk About It: Black Man
It’s been like this for centuries. When my great-great-grandparents were here they lived in one of the most brutal times of racism. Racism is something that’s been around and is joked about sometimes. You know there’s truth in every joke. Tell stereotypical jokes to try and mask the pain of knowing at any moment you can be killed and it would be justified.
The whole I was scared thing was believable to many ears before we saw a cop take a knee on someone’s neck with his hands in his pockets. It was believable until we saw a cop shoot, someone, while their back was turned. Some choose to close their eyes and ignore it because it didn’t involve them.
Now we’re protesting and rioting. Even the way we fight is criticized. Marching, talking, using art, taking knees, holding up our fists was all met with criticism. So after trying everything what else do you do? Continue to take the abuse and just keep pushing?
My question I want an answer for is how do you reform a system that’s deeply rooted and connected? It’s not like the action of a cop is the end of it all. It’s just the start. Like George’s case for instance. He was killed on the scene in front of a crowd full of cameras. The medical examiner said it was an underlying health condition that caused his death not the multiple knees on his neck and body. A second autopsy was performed and revealed that it was actually a homicide due to the multiple knees pressing against his body and neck. Just that right there proves that the examiner lied or did sloppy work. How many other cases involving an officer did that same examiner or another, rule it as a health condition instead of murder?
Then you got the trials. Like another case where an off duty officer entered a home that wasn’t hers and fired shots on the homeowner. Any other case like that would have landed someone behind bars for the rest of their lives. But in that instance only 10 years was necessary. Or all the other cases like when Trayvon Martin was gunned down by neighborhood watch and his killer set free. The officer’s action or the racist action is only the beginning.
These situations happen every day. Right now there are protests all over the U. S and a few other places. We want justice. We want to see people held accountable for their actions like we were to be if in their seats but instead of justice. We get rubber bullets to the face. Tear gas was thrown when we are being peaceful. Maced when we are not doing anything wrong. On top of all this, we are on the verge of having our own troops loose on the streets. All because we’re tired of being beaten and killed for our skin. I say skin because the only difference I see between me and another is my skin. I see any other race slightly warned on most occasions but I see people with my skin tone shot down. Or receiving a longer sentence than someone with a lighter complexion.
Since we get killed just for the skin on our body. I’ll let you know a bit about me before you pull that trigger. Or wrap your arms around my neck. Or place your body weight on my neck. Or even dial the police because you’re scared of an African American. I’m K. Exum. K stands for Kenneth. I use K because I never really liked my first name. It’s weird kinda. I love to voice my opinions through writing. Whether it’s stories, blogs, speeches, or my new favorite poetry. I love to create spoken words on the mic. Never been a crowds type of person so I don’t perform. I tried once and choked. Never tried again.
I talk about depression a lot because I deal with it heavily. Sometimes I think I have P.T.S.D but I was never diagnosed with it. My traumas stem from my childhood. I was spoiled to the naked eye but even high priced items didn’t mean much to me after being dehumanized by my family. Over a sport. It’s crazy but that’s what sparked a lot of dark poetry. The sport wasn’t bad it was what happened behind the scenes that took me down. Even though I feel depressed 90% of the time. I still put all my focus into my craft. A craft that is looked at as a waste by most of my family. But I see it as the love of my life and the only reason I’m here.
When I made Poetic Gift I had reached my lowest point. Poetic Gift represented my take on god saving me from the murder in the mirror. By giving me the gift to write but more importantly the gift to write poetry and truly express my self through rhymes, lines, and deep feelings. I always wanted to release a novel. I hope I get to one day if I’m still here. Maybe if the cold metal in your hand’s jam, I’ll get the opportunity. Or if you can’t fit your arms around my neck. Or if your body pressure is not enough. Or your phone dies before you can dial the last 1. I hope I’ll get that chance. I just want to live like everyone reading right now. But a certain demographic from long ago decided that I didn’t matter much because I was born with darker skin than theirs.
Racism is like having someone bully you for simply being born. The fact that cops can be racist is even worse because they can make up lies about you that aren’t true but judges take their side anyway. Whether your there to defend or your in the grave already. Racist people sometimes can be ignored but when they threaten your life with a phone call is like them holding a gun themselves. This is the life that we have been told to get over for so long. This is my life. The life of an African American. The life of a Black Man.
I just wanted to get this off my chest. We never know when our time is up. So I wrote this. Sometimes I ignore those types of videos but lately, every app has been flooded with those videos. Which is good for people who don’t believe or aren’t use to it. But it makes me sick to my stomach and afraid that I won’t make it because I’m black. This is the end of this post. Like and comment if you want. This is merely how I feel.