Ashley Elizabeth

With the death of George Floyd, I am so tired. Of the hashtags. Of the senseless violence. Of the hate. Of the fact that the police force and those attributed to them can get away with murder, even when it’s filmed, even when things don’t make sense. Of white people that are listened to without question resulting in possibly. Of white people who ask me to educate them of my lived experiences as a Black person instead of doing the actual research themselves; all it takes is a google search (I’ve done it.). Of white people who perform kindness and allyship in situations like this just to call their Black “friends” niggers behind their back. Of people defending racism. Of “All Lives Matter.” Of “Blue Lives Matter.” Of seeing dying Black bodies up and down my timeline or feed.

Of being told I “talk white.” Of saying my work is too Black, that I should be writing about other things. Of being frightened that the next time I’m pulled over will be the last time I ever get to pull over. One of my tail lights is currently out. I tried fixing it, but there is something wrong with the wiring and I don’t have the funds for it right now, so I’m scared of driving past the wrong cop. Of feeling my Black girl magic riding around with the windows down and Nicki Minaj rapping through my speakers. Of feeling this feeling.

Allies, use your voices for good. For change. Do not just stop after one thing and call yourself an ally. Continue the work. Check yourselves, check your neighbors, check folks on social media, and don’t be scared of being corrected. Be willing to listen.

Share love, y’all. Don’t let this man’s death (or Breona Taylor’s, or Aiyana Jones’, or Tamir Rice’s, or Ahmed Aubrey’s, or Mike Brown’s, or Eric Garner’s, or Trayvon Martin’s, or Emmett Till’s, or Sandra Bland’s, or Kendrick Johnson’s, or Amadou Diallo’s, or Justin Howell’s, or Junius Stinney’s, or Philando Castile’s, or Sean Monterrosa, or Freddie Gray, or Korryn Gaines, or any of the many others unjustly murdered) be in vain.