I wasn’t angry when they hunted down Amaud in the streets like an animal. I wasn’t angry when they shot Breonna in her own home and left her to die like roadkill. I wasn’t angry when Amy Cooper called out a hit on an “African American man”. I wasn’t angry when I watched George’s life being extinguished while begging for his dead mama. I wasn’t angry when it took for days to arrest the murderer.
I was hurt. I was numb. I was sad. The colonial capitalist patriarchy was doing what it was designed to do. To me all these killings are business as usual. I became angry when I saw on my screen, all over the United States, police firing at peaceful protesters and the media; instigating violence. The anger sitting dormant deep within my soul rose to a slow boil that exploded during a YouTube live chat when I was accused of being racist for pointing out that Tiktok is a Chinese company and that China is know for censorship. I am angry because I know what it is to be Black in America and I am tired of white and white-passing people telling Black people how to feel and how to act.
This anger isn’t new. Ever since my ancestors were stolen from their homes and treated worse than livestock the boot of oppression has been on our collective necks and we have been angry. My personal anger became justified in my eyes when I found out that Britain paid slave owners for lost revenue when they abolished slavery. While the slave owners were compensated for their “loss” slaves were never paid for their labor. This is one of the reasons I insist on being fairly compensated for my work at all times (but that’s another topic for another day). So when I got an opportunity to commiserate with my internet cousins on Saturday night I was happy to be able to process some of my feelings.
As I sat in the safety of my room here in St Lucia I could hear the siren’s in downtown LA. Ti (nappyheadedjojoba) sat in her regular spot, looking like her regular self but the fear was evident. I was afraid for her safety in her own home, but I pushed those thoughts away from my mind and tried to engage in collective healing through conversation. As she spoke about wanting to protest but being afraid of the LAPD the conversation went to suppression on social media. Someone mentioned that #blacklivesmatter is banned on TikTok. I said “tiktok is Chinese and the leader in suppression based on Chinese models.” A few other people joined the conversation expressing their feelings on TikTok’s censorship. Then seemingly out of nowhere I saw, “We talk #backlivesmatter but seem to talk a lot of racist stuff about the Chinese?? Shouldn’t we take a page from our own book, and stop turning around and doing unto others what we don’t like done to us?” To clarify, I said “to be clear when I talk about Chinese, I am referring specifically to the culture of surveillance and suppression of free speech online.” But that was the point at which my anger boiled over. That was the point where I wanted to burn everything down. That was the point where my rallying cry became: dismantle the colonial capitalist patriarchy.
If why someone calling me racist makes me angry, I ask you to look within. I am tired! I am tired of hearing why the people oppressing us are nice people; good Christians. I carry with me the pain of my ancestors. I carry the knowledge that even today, even in my country a less qualified white foreigner will get a job before me. I carry the knowledge that for centuries Black women were not seen as having control of their bodies and could not legally be raped. I carry the knowledge that George Floyd will not be the last unarmed black man killed by police in America.
I don’t want to see cities burning, but I don’t know what else there is to do. Earlier this year, white people protested because they wanted haircuts. They spat in the police’s face. The police stood there and took it. Now Black people are fighting for their lives and they get tear gas, pepper spray and rubber bullets. The state-backed murderer was not arrested until Minneapolis was on fire.
No one wants to see cities burning, but we are tired and we don’t know what else to do. Footballers kneeling didn’t work, basketballers wearing T-shirts didn’t work. When we cannot find freedom under a system of oppression it is time for a new system. BURN IT ALL DOWN! Dismantle the colonial capitalist patriarchy so that the era of peace, love and freedom can reign.
My feelings are valid. Telling me how to feel is white supremacy. Telling me how to act in public spaces is white supremacy. Telling me what to say on the internet is white supremacy.
STOP TELLING BLACK PEOPLE HOW TO FEEL! STAND BESIDES US AND DEMAND JUSTICE AND FREEDOM WITH US!