Tuesday, October 2, 2018

Why My Brothers are Walking Target Practice

In part IV of Citizen Claudia Rankine writes "I left my client's house knowing I would be pulled over. I knew. I just knew" (105).

Being born and partially raised in West Philadelphia, and then moving to a place like Oak Park, I can genuinely say that there are very few people in the Oak Park community, of all races, that know the power that Rankine's statement holds. I have gone out with black friends, and made countless good memories, only to hear less than 24 hours later that their lives have been taken by this phenomena of police brutality.

There is a certain weight that black people walk with every time they leave a front door, every time a white person crosses the street for them or gives them a look that indicates that they would rather cross the street for them, every time a police car is sitting at the end of the block they're walking down. When you are existing while black you leave yourself vulnerable to a world of uncertainty.

There have been times when my brothers (one is 25, the other is 14) will be late coming home, or will go out for the night, and there is this look in my mother's eyes that lets me know there's some part of her planning their funeral. I live in a world where my mother plans funerals each time her sons leave her eyesight, because there is never a promise that we will get them home in one piece.

I don't know how else to explain how nerve-wracking that concept is, how each time my brothers leave the comfort of a home they are now walking target practice for America.

1 comment:

  1. I thought this blog post was really powerful. I like the way you described this "certain weight that black people with" and how they always have to carry it around because of the world we live in.

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