In the height of the Alton Sterling and Philando Castile senseless and unjustified killings at the hands of the police and then the Texas police killings, my emotions have been twisted in every direction but loose. Even my Harlem residency can’t shake the live footage that kept-record of the moments these beloved people took their lasts breaths and were taken from this world too soon. My mind is playing hide and seek with a roller coaster of thoughts that become more complicated as the hours pass. These difficult moments along life’s journey feel like a ride I wish I had a chance to get off.

But I know that exiting is the easy way out. It is the way that doesn’t accept that my blackness is the ticket that I have been dealt. The ticket my ancestors, grandparents, and parents worked so hard for me to walk in with pride, dignity, and respect. Questions suffocate my yearning to find an understanding that is as clear as the air we breathe. The truth of race relations in the United States is at a forefront. Yet no one has confidently taken the wheel on this path paved with pain, confusion, hate, love, peace, violence, fear, and hope. Who will take the wheel? It is not one person’s responsibility to steer a nation in the right direction of peace, tolerance, acceptance, respect, and unity. We are all responsible. We are in a time that we cannot ignore injustice, hate, discrimination, and crimes like a scar that will heal if given enough time and space. This scar is fresh and our silence or whispers and side conversations are like adding salt to a fresh wound. It will hurt. But this pain if handled right will only make all of us stronger and better to handle the next hour, the next minute, and the next incident. Friends assure me that there will be a next. While we are here, let’s care for the fresh wound because it is wide open and ready to be addressed.

I was born and raised in the United States. After living abroad for 11 years, I decided to move back to the United States to pursue a Master’s degree in international educational development. Yet I never planned on transitioning from freedom beyond borders to fear within borders. Let me explain.

Working, living, and growing into my own destiny through my personal, social, professional, and spiritual experiences in Ghana, Belize, Japan, and Ecuador was a dream come true. My heart truly smiled every time I met new people, learned a new language, saw a historical treasure, or tried a delicious dish. I made lifelong friends, and I was truly happy. I moved back to the States to pursue my educational dreams and be closer to my family. As an only child, my parents always supported my international dreams, but it was no secret that they also wanted me to eventually come home. Sometimes they were even worried for my safety because I lived in communities that they did not know. They did not know my communities beyond the borders of their comfort zones that I called home until they visited me. When they visited me, they understood my happiness and my way of living in the world that became the essence that defined me. When I traveled and lived abroad, I did it with faith and never fear. I was never discouraged from exploring a new place based on news, gossip, or misunderstandings. I put my faith in God and never experienced any major problems. My communities took good care of me. I was always part of a family. I always felt free to be me.

Now I am back and living within the borders of the United States. I am home, but it is not the home that I left 11 years ago. Is it the home that I left? Is it the same home that I was never old enough or exposed enough to understand that what we are experiencing is not new. Snap. Snap. I am awake now. I am in the moment. I am woke. I have been reading, listening and reflecting on this time. Lately, I have been waking up numb. I can’t help but to move slower these days because my heart is heavy. In graduate school, the home of scholars, many of my Caucasian peers simply smile and walk past me with their Starbucks lattes while my close friends or friends of color sincerely ask me, “Are you OK?”

Today as I walked along the street, young people wanted to talk to me about saving bees. I wanted to ask them what about saving human beings’ lives. We matter, too. The bees would have to wait. Although honey is sweet, it is time to deal with the bitter truth.

I call my family a little more to see if they are doing well. I check in with my parents so they know that being buried in books means that I am not among the dead. I talk to strong black men who believe that their lives can be taken even if they comply. I listen to women of color who fear that the ones they gave life to might be taken too soon. I listen to strangers who are fed up. We must all talk. We must not just watch and shake our heads as my brothers and sisters keep being pronounced dead by senseless actions that claim their last breaths. We must all take the wheel and move in a direction that unfortunately wasn’t made for the creation of GPS. We must open our eyes and understand that now is the time for us to unite more than ever.

Now is the time to not pass each other by with a simple smile. It is time to face the bitter truth. It is time to start by acknowledging each incident. I challenge everyone no matter your racial, ethnic, academic, economic, religious, or sexual orientation. I challenge you to take the wheel and join me on this journey.