Chelsea McKinney, My Blackness

My blackness is yalls madness. The only color you see that upsets you. Why is that? Why should I have to be afraid of someone who’s supposed to protect me? All I heard growing up was,

“DON’T HAVE YOUR WINDOWS TINTED WHEN YOU START DRIVING!”

And

“DON’T WEAR A HOODIE OUTSIDE OF THE HOUSE!”

But, you know what they didn’t tell me? They didn’t tell me that I couldn’t buy skittles in the gas station. #We miss you Trayvon. They didn’t tell me that I couldn’t just sleep peacefully in my own bed. #We miss you Breonna. They also didn’t tell me that I couldn’t buy something in a store without them thinking my money is fake and calling you. #We miss you George.

You see growing up in a black community, full of strong BLACK MEN and WOMEN. We’re taught not to be afraid of you, but at the same time that’s just a joke. Because all you do is POKE… POKE… POKE

Poke at us for walking down the street Poke at us for protesting our rights But, as soon as you scream “ALL LIVES MATTER!” You don’t see how that’s a protest to my protest.

You fail to realize all the intelligent BLACK people who have built all your inventions. The ones with common sense and good intentions. But instead you choose to look at us with weird apprehensions. Look at us and ask absurd questions.

Take our fathers from us, then mock us cause we dont have one Taken from us by the gun That you held, compelled to see our melanin as a weapon.

So yea my blackness is yalls madness, With all the sadness from your emotionless actions Leaving children and mothers crying on their door steps. And all you can say is “I’m sorry I thought they were somebody else!” or “I’m sorry I thought they were holding a gun!”