I have the right to remain alive.
To be treated as a citizen, not a suspect. Innocent, not guilty. Equal, not inadequate.
To be arrested, arraigned and tried in a court of law. Not executed on the side of a road.
To feel protected, not profiled. Validated, not vilified. Acknowledged, not targeted.
I have the right to feel secure in my Black body.
To express my individuality. Any style of hair, any style of dress, any color.
To express a full array of human emotions. At any time, and any place.
I have the right to be Black.
Without code switching. Without lowering my chin/confidence/self-esteem.
Without adjusting to your ignorance or discomfort.
I have the right to congregate. In large groups and small ones.
I have the right to be happy and have peace of mind.
To stop wasting my intelligence and energy navigating racism.
In parking lots. On elevators. In shared public spaces. On social media. Over the phone. At the supermarket. In restaurants. Within my industry. In airports and on airplanes.
I have the right to be free.
Free to voice Black opinions. Black frustrations. Black grievances. Black concerns. Black support. Black brotherhood/sisterhood. And all aspects of Black culture. PUBLICLY.
To do so without fear.
Fear of being fired. Fear of being black balled. Fear of being mislabeled difficult or problematic. Fear of being considered racist. Fear of being dismissed as angry, divisive or militant.
I have the right to be critical.
Of my society. Of my justice system. Of corporate America’s newfound fascination with Juneteenth. Of well-crafted PR statements. Of checks written out of backlash, fear and guilt.
I have the right to remind you, this movement was not born out of a need for jobs.
This movement was born out of a final gasp for breath.
This movement is the number one crisis in America.
BLACK DEATH AT THE HANDS OF INCOMPETENT POLICE.
Racist POLICE. Over eager POLICE. Ill trained POLICE. Scared out of their freaking minds, POLICE.
I have the right to protest their incompetence.
“Hands up, don’t shoot” was me asking nicely.
“Black Lives Matter” was me asking politely.
I’m no longer asking.
“STOP KILLING BLACK PEOPLE!”
We have the right to remain alive.
And we always did.