Stop Asking Us To Respect the Flag When You Can’t Respect Our Lives

Stop.

Just stop.

Stop asking me to respect the flag and respect the military and respect police when it seems no one seems to have much respect for us. Today I saw a guy that was blowing things up in New York and that shot at two police officers walk away with his life. In the same day I saw a guy who’s car simply broke down shot dead in the street like a wounded dog. Wait, we don’t shoot dogs. Shot dead like a black man.

I’m not a rapper, I’m not a thug, I’m not a politician. I don’t have anything noble to say and I don’t have anything ignorant to say. I’m just a man that is tired of feeling like I have to justify why my life matters? A cop shoots a man with his hands up and the narrative is, “Black guys kill black guys all the time; you aren’t whining about that.” I do talk about that and I also hold men and women that talk oaths to serve and protect us to higher standards.

I’m 33 years old. I have never been in a set of handcuffs in my life. I don’t disrespect police when I’m pulled over. I don’t believe that all cops are bad. I don’t hate America or those that protect her. But I do hate that I and those that look like me will never have the same protections as others.

Last week Sandra Bland’s family got paid 1.9 million dollars for her life. She’ll never laugh at Thanksgiving or take her children to orientation at college but 1.9 million should calm the natives. Today I watched a man with his vehicle stalled and his hands up get shot down, how much is his life going to be worth?IMG_0109

One thought on “Stop Asking Us To Respect the Flag When You Can’t Respect Our Lives

  1. My heart and head hurts. It is just too much. I have a son your age and I worry about him every second of every day. I know he is college educated, works hard, and never been to jail but it does not matter. I can talk to him about obey and comply, but it does not matter. I can’t protect him. I pray, and for every story I read of another black man shot by police, I pray even harder, not just for my son, but for all of our black men. It feels like open season. Our lives hold no value. It just all hurts to the core.

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