Showing posts with label Black lives matter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Black lives matter. Show all posts

The Ramblings Inside My Creative Mind: We Would Never Sleep and You'd Still Never Get It

         In the wake of George Floyd's death and recent protests there is one question that rings in my head. It's a question that was asked of me by a former coworker around the time of the murder of Trayvon Martin. The question was something to the effect of "When things like this happen why does one story get more coverage than another?" Although that question annoyed me because it was the first of many times that a white friend would look to me to be their guide in racial injustice who assumed that somehow I knew all the answers to everything black and also because... How in the hell am I supposed to know?! I'm not CNN. Still that question sticks with me today because it was, in a way, a valid question. Why does that happen?
         I've realized that anytime news breaks of a George Floyd, or a Sandra Bland, or a Tamir Rice there are always little side stories that emerge that quickly get lost in the smoke. For instance a week after the murder of Mr. Floyd CNN ran a piece about a man named Javier Ambler the III. He is most likely the reason the popular show Live PD was just canceled because Mr. Ambler was murdered while their cameras were rolling. A story that got lost in the smoke even though a popular cable show may have been there to film his death. This was in March of 2019 and was only spoken about in mere minutes almost 15 months later.
        I now have one theory, among many which would be way more obvious, as to why a lot of stories go unheard. Of course a lot has to do with it perhaps not being filmed and no witnesses, but I also feel that if we were to hear about every single one that's all the news would be. In three months time we've heard about the deaths of Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, and George Floyd. Think of the amount of people in between that are in small backwoods towns that were murdered, the ones that don't get filmed, the ones that are marked as missing and presumed dead. If we were to hear every one of these stories that's all we'd see on the news and up and down our newsfeeds. Just endless black death. That's how often this is happening. Yet still there comes no justice. In the past week two (or three, because again this happens so often that one often, and sadly, loses track) men have been found hanging from trees. Today a young activist was found murdered days after tweeting about being sexually assaulted. It goes on and on. Absolutely endless. 
       The thing is even if every news outlet covered every story or every case of injustice would you still hear it? Would you still be determined to say "All lives matter" in response to "Black lives matter"? Would you try to learn about systemic oppression? Would you listen to women tell their stories of assault? Would you still deflect and speak about black on black crime? Would you still deny your privilege? Would you still keep your eyes closed when presented with endless black death? Because the sad truth is.... a lot of you would. This is why we march, we vote, we scream, we fight. 

-Asia Aneka Anderson, 2020
        

Whyte Noise: The Sound Of Silence

Loud silence
Fleeting solidarity
We can take no more
12:00 a.m. a new day 
Back to your regularly scheduled program
Post your lattes
Your DIYs
And your kids
Another generation unable to speak
Seasoned with a pic of a vibrant sunrise
While cropping out the burning streets below
Your privilege allowing you to lift your veil
While we are still shrouded in darkness
Yet your laziness expects me to be your guiding light
Silence
Ah, I love the sound of white silence in the morning
Your sudden screams of deflection
"Omg look at the thugs looting"
Followed by our tired sighs
"Omg look at the white guys in disguise
Who break and destroy
Only to run away when the heat starts to rise"
Silence
We'll be right back to your regularly scheduled program of tone deafness
Ill timed quotes
MLK with a side of Gandhi and a dash of John Lennon
A little James Baldwin if you nasty
You're so woke
Then your loud and proud "buts"
Drowning out the voices of the unheard
"Stop! I'm being oppressed"
"That black man wants me to follow the rules"
Oh, the humanity
Clutch of the pearls
You master of oppression, you
Silence
Silence while you steal black culture and loot black lives
You praise the style and moves Justin Timberlake
As if Usher didn't do it back in '98
Pay the copycat
And when the people whose culture you stole asks you to have their back
Just do the minimum
Give yourself a pat on the back
Then turn the sound down 
And bring the silence back (Yeah!)
Appropriators don't know how to act
Change the channel
Another murder porn is on
A world premiere
Then you begin to sing your favorite songs
"Well He Must've Done Something Wrong"
"We Don't Have the Full Story"
And the #1 smash hit
"He Didn't Comply"
Outage ensues
Another moment of silence
Followed by a rerun of the tone deaf chronicles
#AllLivesMatter 20/20 special edition
Meanwhile mere objects are more valuable than mine 
Did you say that TV was $599 and designer handbags worth hundreds?
That sounds pretty steep when compared to the price black life
Target becomes your importance
Over the target on my back
Proof all lives do not matter
If my value is less than that of a coat rack
You kneel not in solidarity
But instead on the neck of our existence
Suffocating
Mother's without sons
Father's bury daughters
We can take no more
But I'm sorry
Did we interrupt your baseball game with a revolution?
There it is again
The deafening silence
I'll let you get back to your regularly scheduled program

-Asia Aneka Anderson, "Whyte Noise: The Sound of Silence" 2020(c)

BLM

Bodies of the innocent lying in the streets.
Left for dead.
Another day. Another hashtag.
Cities left in ruins.
Kings and Queens stripped of their crowns.
Lives lost for nothing.
Innocence tarnished by false narratives.
Voices of the outraged go unheard.
Everyday battles of peoples black and brown.
Still we fight.
Marching for a true freedom.
A revolution begins.
Together we stand.
Today we want change.
Equality is due justice.
Restless although the fight.
Still, even still, we come together for what’s right.


-Asia Aneka Anderson, BLM 2015©

#SandraBland #SamDubose

         The main reason why what happened to Sandra Bland scares me to death is that this literally could’ve been me several years back. A few years ago, on my birthday, no less, my best friend and I were celebrating. We drove from where we live in Dayton, Ohio to the amusement park King’s Island which is about an hour drive south, if that. We went late because my birthday is in October and it’s Fright Fest around that time at King’s Island. On the way back, I honestly couldn’t tell you if I was speeding. I don’t think I was because I was keeping up with the rest of traffic, if not going slower. At one point I see this car tailing the fuck out of me. Whoever it was was dead on my bumper with bright lights, and because it was dark I couldn’t make out the car. Even though it was late the highway was still busy and I really wanted to get the hell out of this person’s way. I sped up a bit to get over and as soon as I did the cop threw on her lights. I was confused because the only reason I was speeding and getting over was to get the car off my ass… just like Sandra. Also, like Sandra I’m pissed. This was the second time I’d ever been pulled over and I can tell you both times my blood was boiling (the first time I was ever pulled over was when a cop cut me off, damn near hitting me, and then pulled me over because I flicked him off, but whatever). So she give the whole “You know why I pulled you over?” spiel and since my friend and I had just stopped to get food before this I just decided to eat with an attitude, give her as many “whatever” facial expressions, and told her I was speeding to get her off of my fucking bumper, until we could be back on our way. She was kind of a bitch to us, but I was just focused on her wrapping up whatever bullshit ticket she was going to give me.
        After what has just happened to Sandra, I’ve been replaying that incident in my head. My best friend that was with me was white. Would things have played out differently if we were both black or if I was by myself? I mean, we were on a dark highway and people were rushing down the road not paying any attention to us. If it was the middle of the night anything could’ve happened. I also think back to the many times when I lived in Chicago and when I wanted to drive back home I’d hop on the highway by myself. I don’t know if any of you have driven through Indiana, but through there from Chicago to Ohio looks like nothing but back roads and through most of it there’s hardly any traffic at all. Often times I wouldn’t see another car for miles. The only thing I was semi aware of is that certain spots of IN. are known to be racist so I took extra care when stopping for gas, but that was it. I never thought twice about it. Now I do have to think about that. I have to wonder if it’s safe for me to get into a car by myself. I have to double check and triple check my surroundings. This isn’t normal to be in this state of fear. I don’t want to live in a world where I’m more frightened to be pulled over than be in a car pileup. That’s fucked up. It really is. 
        What happened to Sam Dubose hits very close to home as well. For starters this happened in Cincinnati which, as I stated before, isn’t even an hour away. The reason Sam was pulled over is one that has caused police to pull over my mom several times. Something as dumb as a license plate not being on the front of a car cost Mr. Dubose his life. Completely unnecessary. When my mother would get pulled over it would only be in one neighborhood and, surprise, it’s a predominately white area. The last time she was pulled over the cop followed us in a parking lot and didn’t pull her over until she pulled out onto the road (which is dumb. Why not pull people over when they’re already out of traffic?). I remember the cop trying to be funny and looked at my mother, uncle, aunt, and I and said “Well look at you guys all dressed up? Where are you going to?” We were just coming from my 16 year old cousin’s funeral. That’s why we were so “fancy” *eye roll*. After that was all said an done since my uncle was in the car he put on the license plate for her. It’s funny how I still see tons of cars everyday without their front plates, but either way it’s still not a reason to ask someone to get out of the car let alone take their life. That scares me, because now we live in a time where cops are trigger happy and nervous because they’re afraid of a retaliation. I remember when this story first broke, my mom and I walked in the house and my father asked if we’d heard about it. My mother said she’d heard about it a little, but didn’t know why Sam Dubose had been pulled over. I just looked at her and said, “License plate.” I could see the look of disgust on her face to just utter confusion because that had been her many times before. I don’t even want to think about what could’ve happened the few times she had been pulled over for this. Black people are losing their lives for minor traffic offenses. Something as small as not using your turn signal will get you killed. I cannot comprehend why these things are happening. Why are we being murdered? Can we live?


-Asia Aneka Anderson
Day 119: I love seeing my people stand up for what's right. I wish I was marching with y'all #StopKillingUs #ImWithYouBaltimore #prayforbaltimore #BlackLivesMatter #2015 #365DaysOfHappy
Day 118: April is #NationalPoetryMonth and since it's almost over here's the latest I wrote that I feel is also very important asiaanekawrites.blogspot.com #BlackLivesMatter #TargetOnMyBack #PrayForBaltimore #StopKillingUs #WeAreNotThugs #poem #poetry #Instapoet #Instapoetry #PoetsOfInstagram #amwriting #2015 #365daysofhappy #happygoals #myedit #InsideMyCreativeMind

Target On My Back

I can’t live with a target on my back.
It’s no longer “hands up don’t shoot.”
The higher my hands don’t stop the bullets.
The lighter my skin don’t stop the stares.
These targets don’t fade.
It’s open season.
The news stations love showing savages.
The cause at hand ignored.
Only the negative captured in the camera lens.
The message is freedom.
The fight is for justice.
You’re distracted by the word riot.
You’re distracted from the target on my back.
Can’t you see the anger?
Frustrated the value of my life is zero.
We are treated as nothing.
Can’t you see the suffering?
A mother burying her son.
A baby that will never know their parent.
All because of that target on their back.
A target that will never be erased.
Only change can make that diminish.
The only way we can change is if you acknowledge the target on my back.


-Asia Aneka Anderson, Target On My Back 2015©
Day 49: When I see things like this. I hope something is done about it too. It's about time people start getting held accountable. ‪#‎365daysofhappy‬ ‪#‎Ferguson‬ ‪#‎CNN‬ ‪#‎BlackLivesMatter‬ #2015 ‪#‎happygoals‬

We Can't Breathe

Blood covered sheets fill these streets.
Dead bodies everywhere.
Another mother without a son.
Another wife without a husband.
Another child without a parent.
Another human life turned into a hashtag.
A whole community gasping for air because we can’t breathe.
The cries get attention, but the message is lost.
Debates on the evening news as to who’s right and who’s wrong.
Everyone forgetting that a human life ended at the hands of another.
The people in power ignore the fact that we can’t breathe.
We walk around on eggshells.
Don’t look threatening.
Keep hands outside pockets.
Hold onto the breath you have left.
Remember that in a black man’s hands a wallet is a gun.
Sagging pants make you a drug dealer.
Asking questions make you a menace.
Our lives hold value.
Yet there’s still bloody sheets, lifeless bodies, and cries of anger.
Let. Us. Breathe.
We have been gasping for air for far too long.
How many times do we have to yell “WE CAN’T BREATHE!” until the world believes us?
I’m holding my breath until the day that we can breathe.
Just let us breathe.


-Asia Aneka Anderson
Tumblr: AsiaWrites