It seems as though the black community relives the same tragic story over and over with no end in sight, beginning with Emmit Till and currently Alton Sterling And philando Castile along with many other countless killings of black boys and men.

Some come by the hands others in our communities and MOST by those sworn in to serve and protect us.

Imagine being a character in a video game such a Grand theft Auto. You start the game at your house. You go out and try to complete whatever mission you are assigned but you do something incorrectly so you are killed. The game refreshes and you are back at your home with another life. You go out and try again but you are killed and you soon see that any and everything you try to do gets you killed.

This is a sad reality for black men in America. Not doing something or doing something slightly incorrectly involving the police, most times leads to death, hashtag and no punishment of those involved


A close friend of mines, Shaquita Wright paints this painful relapsing scenario in a poem:

Every morning as I shower I realize I wash and I scrub my skin, my BLACK SKIN, until I feel like I’m clean and refreshed. My blackness is still there. As I go out into the night to the corner store, to buy my skittles and Arizona iced tea, I’m stopped by a neighbor watch guard because of my BLACK SKIN being seen as a threat and ruthlessly, my life is taken away from me. I AM TRAYVON MARTIN. Do over. Next morning, I shower and continue scrubbing at my BLACK SKIN. I come out the shower, I’m still BLACK. I am now an unarmed teenager with my hands in the air as a cop guns me down. I AM MICHAEL BROWN. Do over. Shower, scrubs BLACK SKIN, step out, I’m still black. I’m now in the playground, innocently playing with a toy gun until a cop shows up and feels threatened and takes my life away. I AM TAMIR RICE. Do over. Shower, scrubs BLACK SKIN ever harder, step out and all it does is give my BLACK SKIN a shinier glow. Present day. I’m standing outside a convenience store selling CDs until approached by two officers and after wrestling me to the ground and having me in their full restraint, I’m shot dead. I AM ALTON STERLING. Do over. Shower, scrubs BLACK SKIN ever harder, step out and glow. Traffic stop by an officer, I reach for my license and registration, while warning the cops I have a firearm so that he’s aware but still complying to get my license and I get shot 4 times by the officer. I’m dead. I AM PHILANDO CASTILE. Do over. Tirelessly showering because no matter how much I scrub, my BLACK SKIN will still glow as a threat. Tired. Exhausted. Worn. I’m still black and I can’t change it. But why should I have to change it? Why am I a threat? How many do overs do we need before we rise up?!