Tre, this is something that’s taken a long time for me to accept, and I’ve doubted myself many times. But for my survival--which is, let us not fool ourselves, black life in America, black and brown, native American, it is survival--I’ve had to move beyond that doubt. There were too many times when white friends, allies, etc. just didn’t get IT but they tried to explain it away anyways. It was merely mistake, and my learning moment.
When your uncle, your father, your dear friend is an alcoholic, you hope he gets over it, but after so many snuck drinks and relapses, your skin hardens. Your hope doesn’t die, your love doesn’t really fade, you just grow less naive.
I feel now like that, and our black and brown survival, our very lives, removed at whims, is dependent on whether or not this white nation can face that addiction.