First, you'll have the talk. Your father will sit you down at the dining room table with your siblings. He'll tell you that everything he is about to say is very important and you should listen. You'll be reluctant to sit, almost afraid of what he'll say. Your mother will be beside him, nodding her head while he speaks. He'll tell you what to do when the police pull you over. You stop, with your hands on the dashboard, you wait for them to approach the car. You'll roll down your window and do everything he commands you to. You'll ask no extra questions and you don't tell them more than they need to know. You'll make no sudden movements. You'll hope that the incident only lasts as long as it's supposed to. You'll hope that you get to go home that night. That your blood will not pool on the asphalt. That your body will make it home unbruised. That you won't be emotionally scarred for eternity. Your heart will thrash against your chest as your father speaks. The thunder in his voice calls you to hear him, but the sincerity in it demands for you to listen. For the first time, you'll see your father cry. You won't fully understand why but his tears will tear at your heart strings. You'll be inclined to heed his warning and do everything he told you. You'll silently pray that you never have to. Your father will kiss each of your heads and tell you that he loves you. He'll do it a little while longer and much tighter today.

****

You'll be at school. Your mother will have done your hair differently. Braided crisply, cornrows will be secured on your scalp. She'll put colorful beads on the ends that click clack with every movement. You'll love your hair, you'll be so excited to tell all your friends. You will not be able to hold in your excitement. You'll show off your mother's work as if she is an artist. You'll walk in with your excitement bubbling over like a pot of water on the stove. When you see your friends you'll run over to them. They'll greet you and tell you to take off your hood. Without inhibition, you'll remove your hood to become a masterpiece in a exhibit. They'll laugh, they'll ask you why your hair looks so crazy. They will call your classmates attention and they'll swarm around you. Insults, comments, and questions will fly from their mouths and hit you in the heart. Tears will well in your eyes, but you will not cry. You will wear your hairstyle with shame. You'll hope that you can shrink enough to go unnoticed. When you get home, you'll wonder why God gave you hair that didn't look like theirs. You'll wonder why you're the one that has to look different. You'll tell your mother about what happened. You'll decide that weaves and extensions better suit you. She'll comfort you but her words won't drown theirs out.

****

You'll be in a store with friends. You'll have gotten your very first paycheck.You'll be excited to spend your hard earned money. While you and your friends are looking around, you'll feel suspicious eyes upon you. You may even feel the presence of someone following you around. The anxiety of this person will fill the store, you'll feel uncomfortable. But wanting to feel like you've won you'll continue to walk around. You've earned the right to spend the money you worked for. A sales associate will approach you and your friends, she will talk to you. She'll ask what you're shopping for today, she might even show you some options. She'll walk away and watch you from the cash register while you and your friends continue to look. As you enjoy your shopping excursion, a manager will approach you. They will ask you to open your bags to show them none of their merchandise is tucked away in your purses. The steam of your anger will rise to your face. You'll be seething with rage. But, you will not show her that, you will leave with dignity and poise. When you get home, you'll cry. Partially because you're sad that the world hasn't changed but also angry that you have to deal with things like that. You'll be angry that you don't get to express that anger. Otherwise, you're the stereotypical image they expect you to be. You'll tell your family of the incident and they'll remind you of the exceptional qualities you hold. You'll feel better but, you'll always remember how your skin color made you a criminal.

****

Everyone will be excited for prom, you'll be anxiously looking for a date. All your friends will have been asked by now. You will decide that waiting to be asked was pointless, so you'll ask the boy you have a crush on. You'll tell your mom while brainstorming a creative 'promposal', you'll work together to make one. You'll go to school the next day, so excited to ask him. You'll pop the question in lunch, in front of everybody. He'll say no. Your heart will hurt, every beat echoing his response. Finding your voice, you'll ask him why. He'll say, "I'm just not into black girls." You'll want to scrub your skin color off of yourself. You'll want to rip off your plump lips. You'll want to look like everyone else. You'll despise the thing that sets you apart from your classmates. You'll go home and scream, you'll tell your family how much you hate yourself. They will build you up again, reminding you of the beautiful strong black women before you. You'll find solace in their words but never forget how embarrassed you felt to be black.

****

You'll be watching the news, a black man will have died at the hands of a policeman. You'll have heard the testimonies of his family and your heart will break for them. You'll think of your own brother and father, how you would feel if they had died so unrighteously. You'll hear the way the news channels speak of him, he was a thug. Somehow that warranted death. You'll remember what his family said about him and choose to honor that image of him. He is somebody's, he is more than a movement, he is not a hashtag. You'll hope that if it were your family, people honored the image that you told them. You'll know that no one is perfect, that sometimes people make mistakes. You'll know that people always think they have more time than they do. You'll forgive him for his mistakes because no mistake was enough for him to deserve death. When the policeman is announced a free man, you will be angry. You will cry as if he belonged to you. Your heart will be heavy, it will weigh your body down. You'll know that he is just another black son, father, brother whose life doesn't matter. You'll desperately want change for this world, justice for all the grieving families. Months later, when it goes off the news and everyone that wanted justice disappears, you'll still be looking towards change.

****

You'll be driving home, you'll see the blue and red lights appear in your rearview. Your heart will try to escape your chest, but you'll remember everything your father told you. Slowly, you'll pull off to the side of the road. You'll immediately place your hands on the dashboard. Waiting for him to approach the car, you'll roll down the window. Following everything your father told you to a tee. He'll ask you to get out of the vehicle, you'll be confused. You did nothing wrong. You were a good girl. But, you'll comply. You'll get out of the car and place your hands on the vehicle. He'll search your car and find nothing. He'll go back to his cop car, thinking you're free to go, you'll reach for the handle. He'll yell but only after he shoots. The smell of gunsmoke will linger in your nose, the sound will howl in the echoing wind. He'll panic because you were unarmed. You'll lay on the ground, hoping there was someone to comfort you. At home, your family will be wondering why you haven't come home yet. Your blood will stain the road. You'll go over in your head everything Daddy said, you'll wonder why you're on the ground if you followed his direction. You'll know that you are not a movement. That you are not just a hashtag. But that you belonged to somebody. Everything will hurt, you'll wish your mother was there to make everything better like she's done your entire life. You'll wish your family was there to build you up again, like they did every time you were hurting. This, was a different kind of hurt, that even the doctors couldn't fix. The ambulance will come remove your body, another police car will pull up to the scene. They'll be sent to deliver the bad news. They'll knock on your door, one of your siblings will answer the door. Once they see who it is, they'll call your parents to speak with them. They'll ask if they're your parents and before your father can respond, your mother will fall to her knees. She will wail, the sound of her heart breaking will fill her sobs. She'll think about how they have to live life without you in it. Your father will try not to cry, but the thought of you dying on some road will make his eyes flood and his heart heavy. They'll tell your siblings and with grieving hearts they'll go to say their goodbyes. They will say everything they ever wanted to say to you but didn't, because they thought you'd have more time. Your father will tell you to shine, like you did when you were alive. Your mother will cry for your return but say her last goodbye. Your oldest sibling will try to be strong, knowing that isn't possible, they'll break down begging for it to be them. Your youngest sibling won't truly understand but they'll tell you they love you.

****

The next day, you'll be on the news. Somewhere at home, a girl is watching. She's listening about how you died. But also about how you lived. Your family will be on the news one night, they will hold a vigil in the community to honor your life. People from the community will talk about how you were the rose in the ghetto. They'll honor your existence and that girl watching, her heart will break and grieve with your family. She'll feel as though she knew you, she will forgive you for your mistakes. She'll wonder why reaching for your door handle meant you had to die. She'll wonder why the world is like this. She'll want change. She'll follow the news to see what happens to the policeman. She'll share your pictures. She'll wonder why someone with so much life ahead of them had to die so young. She'll come home one day and see that your killer gets to walk free. She'll be angry. She'll cry as if you were a part of her. She'll scream. She'll march in your name. In the name of those wrongfully murdered. In the name of those who can no longer fight for themselves. Months later, when everyone has forgotten about you and the ones before you, she will march.