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Re: Philando Castile

So, here's the thing. #PhilandoCastile was stopped for a busted taillight. Ok.
He had a license to carry, (like many non-black identified persons). He had his wife and child in the car (a behavior falsely posited as not normal for people identified as black). His taillight was busted (not black-specific but one could argue that the reaction to said tail light by law enforcement is). He was shot. Quickly. On camera. The officer, supposedly afraid was just relieved of the MANSLAUGHTER CHARGES... of killing a law-abiding citizen in his state of residence.
Wife: American
Kid: American
Dumb car issue: American
Working at a school: American
Conceal and carry license: SUPER AMERICAN
Black skin: ...hold up...
So I hypothesize that, in America, there is no color seen as less American than Black. It is what makes whites afraid. White fear is what makes Blacks afraid. It is what makes Immigrants often hate allying with or trusting us until Whites get afraid of them, too... Then we're allies.
The reason people don't want to say #blacklivesmatter? Because in America, only American lives matter. Check our foreign policies, homeboy. And many american people, some of them black-identified, refuse to acknowledge how utterly American Black-identified people are. We have been here the whole time, working and bleeding for this place. Challenging and supporting. Dying for the luxuries, fighting for the liberty so casually thrown in our faces, voting for progressive government, trying to fit in to a home we help build, all the while being judged, chastised as unpatriotic, apathetic, condemned as whiny (like we never seen a white person speak to police before), objectified, harassed, belittled, denigrated, beaten, raped, murdered because we are black.
So perhaps it is time for the rest to recognize the real. Black is the color of resilience. It can absorb all spectrums. And never wavers. It is equally the color of your bruise as it is the color of you pupils. It receives and absorbs and heals all things American. It is the color of sweet molasses. It is the color of the industrial revolution, It is the color of A night of celebration. It is formal, sexy and slimming. Black is the Universe. Black is the infinite shade. The color of possibility. Black doesn't burn.
And, for today, I have never been more aware of the white feather, the white flag, the scavenging seagull, the metaphorical albatross, or the false purity of your new wife's white dress. Because this nation, if it is so... white, is too young, too fragile, to be the pearl or the opal. Too consuming to be sunlight, too unrooted to be the apple blossom... too in love with red to be the whit rose... Perhaps it is the white lily, planted in shallow soil and presented at funerals.
I have no issues regarding race as I can't fucking stand associating myself to the qualities projected onto me by others... and I'm too dark to reflect them anyway. But perhaps it is time we stop waiting for white knights and start acknowledging the depth of the black ones, before they kill us all.
Don't talk to me about healing. Miss me with that shit right now. Wake me up after labor day.
Fuck Julius Caesar, that play's boring... here's a Shakespeare quote for yo ass...
"Coal-black is better than another hue,
In that it scorns to bear another hue"
~Aaron; Titus Andronicus

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