Let’s be honest.

This whole story, my story, does not need to be told.

I do not want to be another white woman talking about the experiences of others as if I knew everything.

I do not want to be one more person asking to be affirmed in my convictions, because this story, this gross injustice is not about me.

Sure, I can speak about discrimination because perhaps people listening to me might turn to listen to those around them and that is why I chose to speak and share this story

BLACK LIVES MATTER

The more that I see it and the more that I read about it, the more it astounds me that people are so protective and outraged by these three words. Often times, it seems as if people around me suddenly feel overtly protective of their accomplishments, afraid that suddenly the world will not affirm them for all of their contributions to humanity. It seems as if people around me see those that cry for justice as loud, illogical, or uneducated.

It is with a humbled heart I say that I was one of those people. After Michael Brown was shot in August of 2014, I saw the protests, the flames, the divided lines and labeled it as a nuisance, something that was blown out of proportion. I believed that clearly any police officer would never shoot an unarmed citizen to death. I am not proud to say that I spent the next few months, from August to November simply frustrated that my city was falling apart.

November 28, 2014

I remember becoming so angry that night because a protest had occurred in the space where I was working and this had caused fear among my team members’ families and among my siblings that were there. This resulted in a vent of anger and frustration to my poor, unassuming, old friend from Seattle. In his almost angelic-like, calm way he challenged me to think outside of what I was seeing. He could not understand why I had no empathy for someone that had felt discrimination that I knew nothing of. We closed our conversation with him reminding me who I was, the feminist aching for those without a voice to be heard.

This conversation stuck with me. By stuck with me, I mean it resounded in my soul and slapped me in the face. I had been blind, ignorant even. I believed that injustice that I had not seen could not occur. Suddenly everything clicked into place, and every box and line that I had drawn was erased and knocked over.

My eyes were opened, and I was done talking and ready to listen. I found that the more I listened, the more I realized that I was done believing I knew everything.

Shortly after that day, I participated in a grass roots conversation, geared towards talk about where we came from and how we could better continue the conversation that the shooting in Ferguson sparked. I will never forget sitting in a circle, people looking at me as I humbly admitted that I had made assumptions and that I simply wanted to listen to the aching hearts around me. These individuals never started shaming me as they were in full right to do. Rather these beautiful people pulled me closer into their circle and told me that to not be ashamed for ignorance that I was taught because I was moving forward.

Then came Lemonade…

Lemonade snuck up on me when I was not ready for it. Beyonce’s film and album caused my breath to catch and my eyes to be pried open a little bit wider. Lemonade taught me that inter-sectional feminism was necessary, particularly in regard to black women. As I watch Beyonce sing and portray the history of discrimination towards black women, I found myself becoming more and more aware of how deep seeded racism has been and continued to be. If the man from Seattle was a flash of lightning to wake me up, Lemonade was the rolling thunder that has kept me awake and aware of the discrimination that reigns so prevalent, especially towards black women. There are so many things that we will have to unpack about Lemonade in a future post, but for now, I will just say that it has simply stayed with me.

There are so many more things I want to say and speak out on, but for the time being I will simply leave you with a tiny piece I wrote….

BLACK LIVES MATTER

Did you know that, or are you one of those people that immediately shouts back "HEY! ALL lives matter!!"

If you say things like this, my guess is that you truly do not understand the mentality

Same as if you are a woman that says that you are not a feminist because you do not hate men

Point missed, point missed.

BLACK LIVES MATTER

Are you listening? Are you stepping up and shutting up when your brothers and sisters are saying they have always felt at a disadvantage? Are you listening when your friends are telling you that they have had significant others' families hate them for being black? Are your ears open when her fiancé is forced to defend his character, not based on the evidence of his actions, but rather the preconception that comes with the tone of his skin?

BLACK LIVES MATTER

Did you know that just because you do not feel discriminated against does not mean that someone else has not felt shunned? Could you remove the rose colored lens from your eyes and realize that reality is a bit more grim? Would you choose to see those around you authentically and not how you want to see them?

BLACK LIVES MATTER

We speak it out because some of us seem to have forgotten the innocents that have been unarmed and gunned down, been forced to fallen away, shut out of the world, or tackled to the ground in their swimwear. We will keep saying it until justice is the normal and the world has taken notice of the pain that has been afflicted on our brothers and sisters.