by Alex Alford
A lot happened last summer. We all have scars and wounds that we are still dealing with. Questions that still are unanswered and court cases piling up about if these black people deserved to be slaughtered. A year later the citizen’s app is the real reason everyone’s faces are so glued to their phones, going off every five minutes reminding us of how close danger and death are to greeting us. Although, we should be jumping for joy that the outside is now open, I can’t neglect the feeling of how scared a part of me is to go out and enjoy the summer. Scared because those who are sworn to protect me, are secretly trying to put me away. Scared because all of the good people have to say about me could essentially mean nothing in the court of law. Scared because my skin, as beautiful as it is, causes some sort of deathly rage in people that my eyes have yet to see. Scared because someone may just feel like ending it all for me. I’m a target. How can I possibly enjoy the summer days when I have so many fears?
I feel like this summer I have to look over my shoulder more due to the events that led up to today. The sun reminds me of when I marched with thousands shouting “Breonna Taylor” and “George Floyd;” it reminds me of the times we laid on the asphalt stopping traffic; it reminds me of the tears I let flow once I realized how young and in secret racism is and isn’t. This summer, I can only hope the way I move doesn’t spark that deathly rage. I’m not sure how to feel going into the summer. I can only avoid what I can control, it’s the things and people that live by the fine, invisible print that has me on edge.