I’m very, very tired. I don’t sleep very well anymore. There was a time when sleep came with ease. A few minutes in a car would put me out immediately. My parents would drive around my neighborhood a few extra times to make sure I was in the deepest possible dream state. From there I could be carried upstairs to my bed where I would sleep a full night. I still fall asleep in cars. Maybe it’s muscle memory. Maybe I just like the idea of moving forward, even at rest.
Some nights (like this one), I’m up until the late hours of the night giving myself reasons to not rest. Tonight, the reason is that I have to write. I have an article to finish, and I cannot sleep until it’s done. Tonight, I voluntarily submit to a nocturnal lifestyle.
Most nights, my lack of sleep is fear based. Like most children, I was afraid of the dark and the monsters under my bed. These fears never really went away, they just evolved. I’m still afraid of what hides in the darkness, like hidden privileges and subtle prejudices that you can’t see without looking closely. I’m still afraid of the monsters hiding in places I thought were safe.
Today, as I was driving to pick up my little brother from camp, I forgot to signal my lane change. On the empty road, my traffic violation did not lead to any consequences, but I know it could’ve. Sandra Bland taught me that.
As I pulled up outside of my brother’s camp, I watched him walk from the camp building to my car. He was wearing his dark blue lacrosse hoodie, one of his favorite clothing items. Though his hoodie didn’t lead to any consequences today, I know it could’ve. Trayvon Martin taught me that.
How many lessons do we have to learn? How many hashtags do we have to make? How many black people have to die before we stop blaming the tiredness on lack of sleep? My tiredness is embedded deep within my bones. It’s the type of tired that makes me feel heavy. I’m tired of being so scared.
I keep hearing people say that they’re tired of talking about race. They are tired of being told what is and isn’t politically correct. They are tired of being told their opinion is offensive. Well I’m tired too. I’m tired of being afraid. I’m tired of worrying about my younger brother and who might find him "threatening." I’m tired of wondering if my skin is the right color to be protected under the law.
We are all tired, but that does not mean now is the time to rest. It’s time to fight the exhaustion and our fear of the dark. It’s a time to show that the monsters we see under our beds aren’t just our imagination. We must fight our drowsy eyes and heavy hearts. I know we need to sleep but if we just hold on a little longer, the sun will come up and we can sleep soundly knowing we are living in a brighter day.
