Dear Black people,

Stop writing love letters to white people. They do not give a damn; if they did some shit would have changed already. At this point, there are too many books, articles, blogs, and videos for them to have consumed to claim they don’t know how to act. They are living the life their ancestors enslaved our ancestors to build. Stop telling them how to be allies. How many lists can they possibly need? The shit ain’t that hard…treat people the way they want to be treated and mind your business. Stop waiting on them to be better. The master’s tools will not dismantle the master’s house.

No more hugging the cops and no more forgiving them for murdering Black bodies. That shit ain’t helping the cause. Let’s get some demands met before we let our guard down. We don’t have any extra love, compassion and understanding to spare. We are suffering trauma and we need all our energy to heal. It’s not sound to forgive when there has been no change in behavior. When we show unwarranted compassion to those who do us harm, we normalize the crimes committed against us. Black forgiveness is not respected. It is expected. That expectation leads to more harm, to Black bodies. No more forgiving those who trespass against us.

No more love letters because this is not a love story.

Every minute, of free labor, we spend teaching white people how to be better people (they call it allies) is a minute we can spend nurturing the brilliant Black lives around us. We can create space for our children to thrive. Instead of wasting time negotiating with white supremacist sympathizers check on an elder…catch a game…get your nails done…get a massage. Do any damn thing you want that brings you joy. Do it before Black History Month and save yourself some added frustration from the never-ending misuse of our Brother Martin’s words.

Let go of any desires, you may have to assimilate into a world that does not value your life. Make no excuses for your Blackness. Center it. Embrace all of it. Embrace the Blackness in those who may not love like you, worship like you or identify as you do. We have our differences, but our history and our struggle are the same. My Black is linked to your Black. Black is the love letter we should write to ourselves as a reminder that there is a place we are celebrated and not just tolerated. Our Black is love and our Black is beautiful.

In struggle and peace,

Black Lives Matter

I am in the constant pursuit of liberation. These are my words, provoked by thought and deed.