So this past Monday, I got triggered into an extreme state of Holy Terror. I was trying to park my car and had to pass through a drop off zone in front of my workplace. A mini-van sat idling in a location let’s begin with the benefit of the doubt–unintentionally– blocking passage on either side of the van. It was a snowy week, and all lanes were more narrow than usual. But there was no way around that SUV.
I approached and I tapped my horn, and waved.
The driver waved back.
I rolled my down and said, “Could you move your car to one side?”
The driver replied, “Could you say PLEASE?”
I won’t go down the hill with the avalanche of bizarreness that followed that initial exchange. Let’s some it up with my feelings. My first response was that I wanted to ram her car with mine:
Then, a reality check on both the fantasy presented above, and the reality for Black women WHO ACT LIKE ME when frightened or challenged really hit me. Hard enough to break my heart (open) and leave me adrift and ungrounded for the next few days. Here is the best I can do to share the power of my grief with you, in real time. Watch this 10 minute video to the end. I dare you.
I DOUBLE DARE you.
Now you begin to share some of the stories that I live with, inside my head, as an African-American/ Slave descent/smart enough to SCARE folks/ sexually courageous female. I am digesting stories at a pace that I can absorb. Sometimes I spew and puke and choke on the stories. Sometimes the righteousness of the hurt gets so big it gets STUCK as anger in my kidneys and leaves me pissing blood and passing stones. But I won’t stop my process. And if you don’t want to get vomited on, then take a step back.
But don’t ask me to stop. And NO, I won’t say “please”.
P.S. The family of Sandra Bland was awarded a “wrongful death” settlement of 1.9 million dollars.
P.P.S. No one had the money to post her BAIL in jail of $500. How humiliating. Life, money, power, and CARS, just don’t look the same in Black and in white AmeriKKKa.