I knew the minute I was joined the team of Creators at Odyssey, I would use that privilege to make myself heard, to advocate for people who don't get the chance to share their experiences, and to advocate for people who are suffering and can't find the words to speak out themselves. I've wanted to talk about the issues of racism and police brutality for a long time, but I get so angry that I have a hard time putting my feelings into cohesive sentences... I'm tired of watching the faces of POC everywhere fall with the news of a new death everyday. I'm tired of the excellence of black men and women being denied. I'm tired of the violence being justified just because America doesn't want to deal with fixing the problem. Why is the cold, blunt reality of black lives dying something to be discussed? Why is it a controversy, something we can leisurely sit at the table and discuss over coffee like it's the weather? We are trivializing and normalizing the hate that has infected our nation since it was founded. We like to believe that because we don't have segregated schools and water fountains anymore that it means we've cured the problem. Racism is a social sickness, not something we can rectify with forced societal implementations like affirmative action AKA "I'm giving you this job because you're black and America doesn't want to feel guilty anymore." Racism is not something we can or should forget, but something we need to actively work out of the bones of our society like a cancer. We need to allow ourselves to swallow our pride and denial and accept that there's a problem, stop letting guilt get in the way of change, educate ourselves, and change our behavior. Of course the injustice/hate is uncomfortable to come to terms with, but as a whole we need to consider how hard it is for people who actually live it as their reality.

My heart hurts for the hate and mistreatment POC have to deal with, especially when it is presented by the people who are supposed to protect us. In order to express a sliver of the passion I feel over these issues, I will include some poetry I've written about the topics of racism and police brutality, the best way I know how to truly get my feeling across.

Cigarrettes, CD's and Corner Stores

The three C's of how to make

A fire

I guess he shouldn't have ran

Into the arms of his loving mother as a

child of God like all the rest his gums were pink his

teeth were shiny white like them

So why did he rub his skin like soot

I guess he shouldn't have ran

Away from the strangers when he was

A kid because they whispered warnings

They will eat you alive before

I ever touch you

I guess he shouldn't have stopped

With his hands up or out in front of him

protecting the pink heart

Mirroring the one behind

The finger on the trigger

I guess he should have known

His black hands in the air were too

High and too

Strong in the sky in the night they reached

Up and over past the gun

To the ground in front of the suit

Blue like blood on the inside

They stayed flat in respect

Yes, my master they whispered

just like old times

But the blue didn't hear him and there was a show

of hands in the classroom with

tears what did he do they all asked

silently drooping

blaringly ruined youth

Funny how the metal that used to

bind their ankles

Binds to their heads necks windpipes backs chests lives

All at the once they're broken and lost with them

And we lose more blood, blue just like blue just blue lost

lives lost blood lost them lose us lost