White People Stop Asking Your Black Friends How They Are Doing RIGHT NOW.

So today I decided to take the day from work and sit and process all that has been going on around me, across the country, in my life, social feeds, text messages, DM’s and all. Once again we are here like we have been many times before. It’s extremely frustrating that once again a black person was killed for being black. I woke up this morning and went through my Facebook feed and watched several videos of black people being harassed not only by the police but also from white citizens. Whether it was being handcuffed for jaywalking, to swimming in an apartment building pool with their son, to walking around not wearing a shirt, the level of intensity of the harassment was the same as if the same person just robbed a bank. I had to turn it off. And then I started thinking about my life and trying to figure out why I haven’t been shot for exercising outside or yelled at by a white woman in Central Park or at a BBQ. Was it luck? Am I not “that” black? Where do I fit in here? Of course, I have been harassed by cops. Two or three times in North Carolina, because I fit the description, “young black man” and there are the times living in NYC being racially profiled in retail shops. It dawned on me that it wasn’t luck, but maybe it hasn’t happened yet. So, I wait. I have had the luxury to slide under the radar of that type of scrutiny because I learned at an early age how to play by the rules, aka suck it up and learn their game. Do well in school, be quiet, be successful and your life will be good. So I did. So I thought. And then you learn that it doesn’t matter because you will still get overlooked for better job opportunities, apartments, promotions, and those times when hailing a taxi was a thing. It may sound small, but not being able to get a taxi feels like shit.

And now comes the point of this message. I have received several messages from white people asking me “if I am ok.” Trust me, I know it is coming from a good place. I do. But if you haven’t reached out to me in over a year, during that time I was black too, then really, why now? Did you reach out to me when there was an opening at your company to find out if I was looking or knew anyone who was? Probably not. Or even when the world has been dying around us during this epidemic, and Blacks and Latinos are dying more than any other race. Probably not. To answer all the messages, “NO I AM NOT OK.” Why would I be? If you want to call me and talk about my life, feel free. There is more going on in my life than wondering if I am going to a march or not, and you’d know that if you call. Or if you reached out to me last month, before a black man was killed by the police. I spoke with a lot of my black friends and we all received the same tired question. And we all rolled our eyes and laughed at it. WE ARE NOT OK WITH OUR PEOPLE DYING.

Here’s the thing. The intensity of the protests does not reduce the intensity of fear and anguish in my daily life. As stated, I have learned to survive in ways that you will never fully understand. But if you truly, truly cared about me as a friend, you would know that each public death of another Black person tears a piece of my heart out and simply reminds me of the probability that numerous other deaths at the hands of sanctioned law enforcement have and are happening, just not on social media. Yet still, I show up. I still show up to be your friend, to function normally because my life depends on that capability. As my friend, I want you to read more, know more, understand more about what it really means to be Black in America, in the world. We don’t have to have discussions about it, because god knows those are annoying, and you don’t have to prove to me that you know Black history. What your increased understanding will do is prohibit your inability to know that I AM NOT OKAY, I was not okay, and until things take a drastic change to equally protect my ability to openly and freely be Black, I will not be okay. You won’t have to ask.

What you are showing me by your intense questioning about my well being at this time, simply makes it obvious that you have been oblivious to the reality of my life as a Black man in America for our entire friendship.

I don’t want my white friends to think they can’t reach out to me during this, you can. Just wait till you have something concrete to say, or ask me or any of your other friends do we need anything. And remember that you can reach out to us before you see a black man die on Instagram. Thanks.