Three years later:
Black Boy Cry: Grief In Black America
Processing the news about Alton Sterling and Philando Castile.
A reflection on Black grief 3-years after the deaths of Alton Sterling and Philando Castile on July 5th and 6th, 2016, which altered my work, my relationships, and my worldview.
You’re sitting in a drab airport terminal at Chicago’s O’Hare surrounded by dozens of white travelers. Pay these faces no mind. This is a scenario you’re used to; a feeling of isolation you’ve normalized. Focus instead on the 60-something-year-old Black woman searching for a seat some rows ahead of you. Her body is wrapped in a colorful, pendulous scarf, and her gray curls bounce gently as she sits. She faces you. You discern the way she scans the room as if situating herself in the scarcity of her skin. This is a routine you share.
You watch as the kind-faced woman takes out her phone and begins to scroll. You assume it’s the news or social media. A minute passes, and you see her lift a hand to her face, colored with shock. She drops the phone to her lap, shakes her head repeatedly and begins to cry. You watch her as she swings back and forth, seemingly uncertain of how to release whatever she’s feeling.
