From my bleeding heart to the victims of Jacksonville.
In the stillness of another night, once again, our souls are pierced with the cold realization of a recurrent nightmare. Once more, we are forced to ask why Black Americans — a people who have shown nothing but resilience and a commitment to forge ahead — are being continuously punished for simply existing. This time, the haunting echoes of gunfire resonate from a Dollar General in Jacksonville, Florida. It's a name that will forever be etched in our collective memories, just as the names of the victims will be forever etched in our hearts.
We didn't choose this place as home — we were brought here, against every fiber of our will, shackled and enslaved. Freed, yes, but freedom is a word that holds little meaning when placed under the lens of centuries of systemic degradation. We've navigated the challenges placed before us, always striving to do our best, always pushing for that better tomorrow. But on that tragic Saturday, that quest was violently interrupted when 21-year-old Ryan Palmeter decided that our best was enough reason to gun down Angela Michelle Carr, DeSean Galion, and Anolt "AJ" Laguerre Jr.
It wasn't a random act. No. Ryan had carefully selected his targets, initially planning to unleash his venom on an HBCU. The chilling text he sent to his father post his heinous act, the disturbing manifestos he left behind — all confirmed one thing: the driving force was a venomous hatred for Black people.
In the aftermath, we find ourselves in the juxtaposition of grief and anger. We watch politicians dance their familiar dance, offering condolences, showing up to vigils, even those who have indirectly perpetuated the dangerous ideologies that breed such hate. There’s a twisted irony in seeing those who, by day, send dog whistles to the very same extremists, and by night, condemn the very actions they've fueled. The swastikas on the weapon were not subtle hints; they were glaring confessions of intent. The fact that a man can plot to murder children, and upon failing, still proceed with his deadly plan without hesitation is a grim testament to the depth of hatred we confront. We may express our shock, our grief, but the truth is, these acts, while always heartbreaking, are never truly surprising anymore.
To say that being Black in America feels like navigating a minefield is no exaggeration. Whether attending schools we built, buying homes, or even just making routine grocery runs, the constant threat lingers — an unspoken danger that is the price we pay for the color of our skin. And why? What is it about our existence that provokes such rage? Is it our resilience? Our history? Or the mere audacity we have to claim our rightful space? The twisted answer lies not with us, but with those who perpetrate these acts. The real disease is entitlement — the deep-rooted belief that one race is deserving of everything, while all others are expendable.
From the dawn of history, this has been the narrative. We talk of sexism, racism, imperialism — they were always the orchestrators. We are consistently reminded of our 'place', be it through physical chains or the ones wrapped around our psyche. The fear of losing control, the twisted notion of the "White Replacement Theory", only showcases the sheer absurdity and lengths some would go to maintain dominance. But amidst this, there's a glimmer of hope. It's not about seeking allies anymore — it's about finding accomplices. Those who will stand up, be active, and challenge the status quo. Those who will truly be there for us, advocating, supporting, and actively working towards a just world.
In the face of all adversities, the question that lingers is simple: what is it about us that frightens you so? Is it the shine in our spirit or the shadows of our past? Whatever it is, know that our resilience is unyielding, and we will keep striving for that dawn where we won't be judged by the color of our skin, but by the content of our character.