I’m always up late, but I’m rarely up late and angry. An American city under fire, and I can’t help but think there’s a part of the story left out. How is this happening?
Police opened fire on the crowd of folks who look like me. A woman voiced her opinion but afraid to show her face for fear of losing her job, and images of another black kid laying dead in the street flashed across the screen. It’s been so many, whose child is this, Lesley or Sybrina’s? And my fingers not moving fast enough, protesting on twitter and facebook until I pass out. I stand with internet protesters. I stan for them. I’m often one of them when I can’t make it to these places I feel could use my voice, and brain, and fingers, and images.
But this time I can go, and I’m going. Two riders, and room for one more. They need us. These are people who realized that silence has been doing nothing but making the police force stronger. I want to scream with them.
We pull of out DC at 8:30am Friday 15th. There’s room for one more in the car. Maybe two.