Somehow, we still keep ending up right here.
Hasn’t every Black body said it all before? “Stop killing us,” we have shouted, protested, cried, begged, pleaded. In the ensuing decade, the nation has exploded as we have been plunged back into the murky depths of systematic, overt, and unrelenting racist assaults on Black life. Or, rather, I’m unsure that saying anything matters. I felt compelled to write - just as I did when I began writing for national publications after Trayvon Martin’s killer was acquitted nine summers ago - even though I’m unsure what to say. This morning, I sat on the edge of my mother’s bed, watching news coverage of the murders of ten Black people in Buffalo on Saturday on her television. Photo: Kent Nishimura/Los Angeles Times via Getty Images
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