Thankful Thursday - Thankful for tears

So much sorrow.
Too much sorrow.
Shootings.
Brutality.
A man was shot to death in his car - with a woman and a child in the car.
As he reached for his license.
And explained that he had a gun in the car.
A gun he was licensed to own and carry.
Shot.
In this country so obsessed with the 2nd amendment, the right to bear arms, it would appear that a black man exercising the right to bear arms is fair game to be shot - in his car. Without even having the gun in his hand. A black boy with a toy gun in a park is fair game too. A black man with a toy gun in Walmart too.

My heart is broken.
This is incomprehensible to me.


I am a tall black woman with extremely short hair.
I couldn't be any more flat chested - after the double mastectomy.
So I wear earrings every time I leave my house, dangling earrings.
I try to wear bright colors and other things that make me stand out as a woman.
Because I don't want to be mistaken for a man
walking through my predominantly white neighborhood.
I don't want to be gunned down because someone things I'm a black man
walking through my predominately white neighborhood.
And I always carry my cell phone with me because in my photo file,
I have a photograph of my driver's license  -
to prove that I live in the neighborhood.
I have rehearsed my appeal should I get stopped -
"I'm reaching into my pouch for my cell phone to show you the photo of my driver's license.
I don't have any weapons. Can I lower my hand and take out my cell phone? Is that okay?"
I could carry my license, but since I take my phone to listen to music anyway,
I took a photo of my license.
(Most of the time that I'm out walking, I am not using earphones, mind you,
so I can hear what's going on around me. I can't afford to be unaware of my surroundings.)
It sucks that I have to think about all this stuff - but I do.
Every time I leave my house to walk alone.

Black people everywhere are praying over our children more.
Especially our sons.
Giving thanks every time they arrive home safely.

I've told my son that if he goes out running,
he can't wear a sweatshirt with his hood up.
He can't run with earphones in -
he needs to be able to hear if someone speaks to him or calls out to him.
I've told him how to respond calmly and cooperatively if he is ever stopped by the police.
And I give thanks to God every time he arrives home safely.


How long, America? How long will we allow this brutality to happen?
How many must die this way?
Are justice, fairness, and equality even possible in this country?
Today, I am thankful for tears.