I am tired of sighing. And crying. And “why oh why-ing” to anyone who will listen.
We know why this decision in Ferguson happened. The hurt is so deep, and the pain has gone on for so long.
And so we mothers of Black sons wake up to another injustice hangover, our heads heavy with the weight of absorbing too many messages that tell us, SHOW us, daily, that our loved ones have no worth in the eyes of those who are supposed to protect us. We understand the pain. We understand the anger. But we know that violence only reinforces what many already believe about us.
As a Black mother, it frightens me that I have come to expect this verdict. Because it means that I have allowed myself to give up the ability to feel hope when unarmed young Black men are murdered by police officers.
But like you, I will not allow this hurt to destroy me. And I will not allow it to erase the hope I still see in my son’s eyes.
Oppression is fueled by helplessness. We can’t stay in that space. None of us can afford to hibernate there.
So I will try to summon up the energy to fight back in ways that matter. Because yesterday I was able to sit across the table from my son, over lunch, and spend some time bonding. And this next fight has to be for the mothers who can no longer say that.
I hope you will join with me in fighting for legislation to protect our children’s rights.
This article originally appeared on Essence.com.
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