Lamentations Of A Black Woman ... I Am Sick And Tired Of Being Sick And Tired

I don't know about y'all, but I am still reeling from all the events of last week.  The country starts off the week by celebrating "Independence" Day, but the rest of the week was pretty much the week from hell.  After a national holiday that's supposed to symbolize freedom for all its citizens, we watched video of Alton Sterling being shot to death by police in Baton Rouge, LA.  We woke up the next morning to learn that Philando Castile was pulled over for a broken taillight and was shot to death when he reached to get his identification at the request of the officer who stopped him.  And the day after that, what started off as a peaceful Black Lives Matter protest in Dallas turned deadly when a lone gunmen opened fire on the crowd killing five police officers and injuring several others.  There was also a lynching in Georgia and another officer-involved shooting death of a Black man named Alva Braziel in Houston that didn't make the news for whatever reason.

Last week was a very difficult week for me.  The police killing Black men is nothing new in this country, but to have all of those events happen within just a few days of each other took a toll on me mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.  While I could not bring myself to watch the video of Alton Sterling's murder, I did see his son Cameron crying on television.  His tearful moans of "I want my Daddy" absolutely broke my heart.  Even though the aftermath of Philando Castile's shooting was posted live on Facebook for all to see, my heart was broken yet again when I heard a four year old girl try to console her mother after witnessing her father being gunned down by police.

Last week was too much.  It was just too damned much.  It was hard for me to concentrate.  It was hard to get back to business as usual.  My soul was and still is tired.  I'm tired of being sick and tired.

I am tired of having the same conversations with my son about his safety and how to deal with the police should he ever have an encounter.  I'm also tired of the rules changing.  My husband and I have had the talk and have gone over the rules with our son on how to deal with the police.  One of the rules is to do exactly what the police tell you to do.  What now, then, do I tell my son after Philando Castile?  The officer asked for his identification, but he was still shot dead after complying with the officer's request.  I'm tired of having to come up with answers for shit that doesn't make sense in the first place.  I'm sick and tired that with every shooting death of a Black male in America, my son loses a piece of his childhood innocence because he's having to learn about and deal with grown man issues.  

I am tired of the lack of empathy shown to Black folks when our brothers and sisters die at the hands of the police.  My Facebook timeline was flooded with outrage when news broke that a gorilla was killed at a zoo because of the very real and present threat it posed to a child.  People are quick to offer up condolences and prayers when there are terror attacks in foreign lands but are noticeably silent when news breaks of a Black person dying at the hands of the police.  As a country, are we more sympathetic to animals and atrocities going on in other parts of the world than we are to our own countrymen dying unnecessarily?  

I am tired of so-called Christians not being so Christian-like in their commentary of what's going on with Black folks.  As Americans, don't we have the right to protest injustice?  Imagine my surprise when a church-going, Bible-thumping person I've known all my life posted this on Facebook regarding a protest in upstate South Carolina ... and then co-signed on the comments made by others.

I started to engage in a conversation, but I didn't.  Why?  Because I'm tired.  I am tired of having to explain over and over again why Black Lives Matter and how saying that doesn't mean that no one else does.  I am tired of people choosing to live and be comfortable in their own ignorance or privilege and then get mad when Black folks call them on it.  I am tired of explaining just because stuff doesn't happen to YOU doesn't mean it ain't happening to someone else.  (The delete and block buttons have become my friends these last several days.)

I am tired of having to explain that being pro-Black does not mean I'm anti-White.  At the risk of sounding flip and cliche, some of my best friends are White.  And guess what?  While they may not understand everything I experience as a Black woman in this country, they are sympathetic to what I go through as a Black woman in this country.  A friend and cousin of mine, and yes she's White, reached out to me last week.  She has a teen-aged son.  While she has her own fears regarding his safety when he's not with her, she realizes that I have those same fears IN ADDITION to the fear of my son being approached by police.  She confided that she doesn't know how that feels, but she appreciates and is saddened by the extra burden of the fears I have regarding my son and husband.

I am tired of having to get up everyday and go about my day like there's nothing going on around me.  It was business as usual at work last week.  It was hard to focus with everything going on.  It's hard to concentrate when you and your fellow Black female co-workers are either expressing anger or shedding tears about another Black man dying and how all you could think about is "What if that were my husband / son / nephew?"  I am tired of our very real feelings going unnoticed and not being acknowledged.  All my work friends last week didn't say a mumbling word about everything that happened ... but were all around the water cooler discussing Harambe, the gator attack at Disney, terror attacks in France, and the like.

I'm just plain tired, and I'm tired of being sick and tired.