African American citizen by Madison Johnson ’19

I am an African American citizen.

Every day I am reminded that my skin is different than my peers.

Their privilege blinds them, I don’t have the energy to fight. For that’s what their ancestors did to mine. I have to act like it doesn’t bother me that half the kids I’m in front of won’t feel the way I do, feel that every day someone is watching. The looks, the comments, the actions. The actions… that kill me. Every day a black life is taken by the hands of an officer, a neighbor, maybe a friend. The news covers the shootings as an accident, but the black person is at fault.

But it was the other, whose fingerprints were on the trigger. Thousands of cases being taken to court, but does it ever work? No

Hundreds of people walk out, nothing but a slap on the wrist. But for the black kid whose life was taken, their parents are left to pay the price. Fighting to win a case that they know won’t win because of the color of his skin. But still try, because their flesh and blood was shot point blank in the chest, twice in the back.

Parents hearts heavier than the titanic, they’re the ones who just got shot…  praying to God, the only one that listens to protect their child in heaven above. Wishing that this didn’t happen, blaming themselves for not being able to protect their child. They pray, hoping that the person responsible will pay for what they have done. Fighting because one day, one case will wake the community up, when will be the day someone will have the courage to fight for all?  But till then black kids will continue to die by the gun.