So It Goes

I can’t really say that I am numb.

Numbness implies that pain cannot be felt anymore; that the ability to recognize pain has been removed from the situation.

When I see the video of the interaction that Christian Cooper had in the Ramble at Central Park, or the stills and partial video clip of what happened to George Floyd in Minneapolis, numbness is not the feeling that overtakes me.

What hits me, instead, is an overwhelming sense of being tired.

It’s a melange of grief and anger and sadness and dread. It’s a weariness that works its way into my bones and muscles and brain, setting up shop like it owns the damn place.

Actually, the last few years, it has owned the placed. It went from leasing the space to buying it somewhere around November 2016. It has now renovated the space to truly make it its own.

I’m tired of my people being seen as a threat for existing in public spaces.

I’m tired of my people being snuffed out for no good goddamn reason.

I’m tired of looking over my shoulder, wondering if I’m going to be next.

I’m tired of waiting for the thread holding the sword of white supremacy over my neck to be cut.

Rage isn’t the answer for me, as it would require a constant level of anger that is unhealthy.

Numbness isn’t correct either, as that would mean accepting things as they are and normalizing the deaths as just the cost of doing the business of existing.

So exhaustion sitting behind door number three is what comes to me and weighs me down.

And all I can think as the latest incident crosses the timeline, and the next video I don’t want to watch is cued up:

So it goes.