This short poem by Jason Reynolds is going to sit with me
Read it, ingest it, sit with it, let it simmer deep in your bones, and even then, after all of that, I still don’t think you’ll be able to catch your breath.
Or forget it.
I know I won’t.

i am jason reynolds


I wonder
if my son
will be born
all beautiful
and brown
with black eyes
and broken ribs
and maybe even
a bullet hole
in his back

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Day 8 of 30

2 thoughts on “Day 8 of 30

  1. I have 3 beautiful, handsome brown skin boys and 1 daugheter whose beauty is much like the Nile of yester-year. She looks and moves like royal blood of our past queens of Africa.

    But now I turn on the news and my heart hurts, as I try to process this maddness. I know not, what is true and what is false because too many fingers have held the truth and its human to bend the truth ever-so slightly to prove a point.

    Again my mind struggles on what is the point of this maddness.

    I know my history and I teach this history to my young, so they are aware of the enviornment that will judge them not on their actions or the content of their character, but on their skin. Yet teaching them this will always lead to separation. “There will always be an US and there will alway be a “Them”

    But reality of this truth, is there is only one form. There is only an US. The real truth of the matter is less than 1% of our DNA separates us and makes us different.

    Less Than 1%.

    How many people have died for that number?
    How many people have killed for that number?

    But the real question is how many more will continue to die or be killed to prove the diffence for less than one percent?

    I ask this question to every country where there is civil unrest. How many people must die to prove this point?

    (please excuse any grammar errors. I wrote this quickly)

    • “Less than 1%” is quite powerful and makes it all seem even more senseless than it already did. Honestly, I don’t know how many must die – I don’t think anyone does, but it’s gotta stop. I’m scared for our kids. Fucking petrified.

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