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cell I shared with three other young women; when I told one of them not to fall asleep because the officer who slammed her head into the pavement had probably given her a concussion; and when I walked out of One Police Plaza at seven-thirty the next morning and saw cherry blossoms floating through New York City’s streets, I thought lists of brown and black names from my family tree. Robert is a family name. I don’t think my brother, Robert, knows that he is the one I am marching for, screaming for, begging for it to never happen to my brother. He still won’t talk to me about race or the police. The last time I asked what he thinks about our family’s racial stories, he said, “I don’t believe any of them.”

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2017 Word for Work Workshop ebook  

2017 Word for Work Workshop ebook  

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