I Am Exhausted…And So Are You.
I am black and I am exhausted. This journey we embarked on, as a nation, to reckon with the myths we tell about America has left me drained. Before the world knew George Floyd’s name I devoured books that were the intersection of our complex shared history, race, law, and policy. I read all of the notable names. I watched their lectures. I scoured the internet for interviews. I consumed the knowledge with an insatiable appetite. I started with a question. Each book I read allowed me to refine the question. The authors forced me to rephrase the question so it was more precise. I realized at one point I was not even asking the right question. Where our history, race, law and policy intersect, I am confident to scrap with anyone. I am unafraid to wade, by myself, into unfriendly territory and spar with the opposition. Then, we learned George Floyd’s name. We all watched Darnella Fraizer’s cellphone video, of George’s life slowly being squeezed out of him. I witnessed streets I knew, from my childhood, teens, and early twenties ablaze at night and smoldering in the dawn. When I was 19 I ventured to Lake Street, to have a profound transformation of my own. I had spent my freshman year in college growing my hair, so that I could make the pilgrimage from the confines of the southern suburbs to Lake Street to have my hair locked. My conservative father drove me the first time, for my initial… Read More »I Am Exhausted…And So Are You.