Baton Rouge. St. Paul. Dallas. In three days, America has erupted into a state of war, or rather re-erupted, ignited embers that consistently burn with each new day in the news cycle. Another black man is killed. Another officer is defended. Another cry for justice is heard around the nation and another family mourns. It’s a familiar cycle to the nearly 40 million African-Americans who desperately plead with each new murder: “stop killing us.”

Except this time, a shift has occurred, and retaliation has come with the killing of four police officers and the injuring of eleven so far in Dallas. Two snipers, yet unnamed, opened fire on police officers during a protest in response to the Baton Rouge and St. Paul shootings of two black men by police. It’s official: America is at war with itself.

The battle at hand is not new, between the law and the black community, it stretches back into the dawning days of the country. African-Americans have fought ceaselessly for their rights, and now, in a scene that resembles the social upheaval of the 1960s, they fight for their ability to feel safe at the hands of those who have vowed to “protect and serve.”

In the current age of Facebook, Twitter, and instantaneous communication as well, the issue of accountability for law enforcement is especially prominent. No longer can police hide behind their own word: now, video and audio capture interactions, be it from bystanders, victims, or police themselves: no one can hide. What was once a silent plague is now sensationalized and given to the public to judge. Why else would Diamond Reynolds live-stream the aftermath of her boyfriend's shooting by an officer than to provide physical testimony of the misappropriation of justice?

As cries for accountability are voiced throughout the nation, simultaneously Black Americans wonder “What's next?” “When will justice be delivered?” and how to keep themselves, as well as their families safe. Alton Sterling was a father of five, whose son cried as his mother spoke, demanding justice for the slain Sterling. Philando Castille’s fiance’s four-year-old daughter watched Castille get shot as he reached for his wallet, from the back seat of the car. A common sentiment emerges: no one is safe in this current climate.

In a culture that favors whites, especially in the case of law enforcement, it’s no surprise that retaliation has come in the form of violence against police in Dallas. And while this violence is in no means justifiable, there is the fact of continued injustice against blacks at the hands of law enforcement. In the culture that propagates fear and misunderstanding between the two camps, it is reasonable to say it was only a matter of time until such violence occurred.

But this is not the aim of the movement. The black community seeks to be heard, and to be understood. To be treated as people. To be treated as equals at the hands who have sworn to protect them. Instead, the community cries, and wonders who “to protect” applies to. Conversely, law enforcement must now attempt, once again, to salvage their image and instill in their officers that respect of all people is at the heart of the job.

We must mourn all tragedies today. We must mourn the fact that our fundamental misunderstanding of each other has devolved us into this state of constant fear, suspicion, and unrest. We mourn today for the two black men who lost their lives, who left behind families and loved ones and were unjustly killed. We also mourn the four officers who lost their lives in the line of duty, remembering always that the good cops outnumber the bad.

We cannot deny the culture we are living in, the culture we foster by upholding the aphorism “All Lives Matter,” which blatantly denies the culture of police brutality against Black Americans. Yes, all lives matter. The lives of the police officers killed in Dallas matter. Every person matters. But it is especially true that for a group whose probability to be killed by police is nine times higher than other groups, according to The Guardian, black lives matter.

Yesterday, 1,000 people marched through Manhattan in protest of the killings of Alton Sterling and Philando Castile, blocking 5th Avenue and parading through Times Square, pleading to be heard, pleading for justice. Across the country, similar demonstrations took place: most were carried out peacefully and some were marred by scuffles with police. The overarching message was clear though: this war is not over, and it is doubtful to reach any sort of conclusion soon if police are not held accountable for their actions, and positive change is enacted.

And while policies may change and the technology to monitor police action may advance, the only thing that could rectify the rift between the black community and law enforcement is a complete overhaul of established prejudices and cooperative efforts to instill trust and mutual respect between the two groups. Until then, the cycle continues, and more people, black and white, are killed, more families grieve, and the American psyche is hurt even more as the war rages on.

Today, we remember Alton Sterling. We remember Philando Castile. We remember the four police officers who lost their lives in Dallas. We remember all those who have lost their lives in this unnamed war, and we cry for justice, that change will soon be on its way.