Are You There, Journal? It’s Me, Erika: In This World

Dear Journal,

I have been struggling to figure how to feel my rage over the never ending murders by cops and racist vigilantes upon Black Americans; the daily racist aggressions; the willful ignorance and silence, while trying not to live in a storm of rage every 40 seconds. How do I take care of myself in this life? In this Black body? In this country? I have been struggling to not divulge into a spiraling weight of grief and resentment. I am defensive when I need to be; but also, when I don’t. I will not sustain in this way.

“God, I want to hate them all, but I don’t want to hate them all. I don’t want to become the cold and monstrous mortals that I am fighting to stop. Help me to find balance. Help me to find my way.”

I know Ma’Khia’s gone. I know Andrew Brown is gone. And Mr. Floyd. Breonna. Atatiana. Elijah. Ahmaud. Sandra. All the rest—so many, that to list Us all would take ages. I cannot post and write all that I want to about these Black Humxns that should be here still; I can’t write it all at once. Because, my Heart. 

(My heart cannot take these deaths, all at once.)

I found myself living according to other’s assumptions, fears, biases, antipathy, and hate. I could not, and cannot, sustain this way against such tyranny. Although, that is exactly what I and most other Black Americans and People throughout the African Diaspora are doing. We are sustaining against tyranny. We are surviving and thriving through continual, generational, societal, geographical, psychological, political tyranny. 

How have We done this? How have We been able to do this? And create, still. Innovate. Invent. Love. Heal. 

I have been judging myself on how I have not been able to do this perfectly. Or at the very least, as My Ancestors did it. As Tamika does it. Or Stacey. Amanda. Joy. Blow. 

As Our Ancestors did it. Stamina. Bravery. Soul.

It is not easy being Black. In this world.

Happy 10 Year Anniversary to Erika Is Love In Los Angeles!!! 💛📄📓📃🖊💻💫✊🏿🦋