Only Us (Justin Fields)

|52| Lift Every Voice

Justin

You would think that with the world in the state we are in we would change our ways. Come together. Fight as one instead of fighting each other. Overcome the hard times and challenges side by side.

But somehow, someway, this world still finds ways to bring out the worst in people.

In American history we have always had turmoil when it came to the state of African American people. From the moment we were forced onto this soil we have been fighting and we haven't stopped since. From slavery to segregation to racism, it feels like every time we free ourselves from one chain we're locked to another. Simply because the color of our skin.

Now I grew up in Georgia and it might be the 21st century but it feels like time never moved for black people in that part of the country. There's monuments of our ancestors that hung from trees, and the statues of the people who put them there right around the corner. People use history as an excuse but if we never learned from it why glorify it? Why celebrate something so awful in the first place? I left the university of Georgia because of people calling me the n word. I've seen time and time again people being racially profiled for the simplest things. It feels like even in our element like sports or music we're getting knocked down. People hating on LeBron for dominating for so long. People appropriating the music for centuries. It just seems like we can't have anything.

And now... now it feels like we are headed right back to where we started. It's 2020, we shouldn't be arguing about the rights and liberties of black people, things we were supposedly promised long ago, but we gotta fight every day just to live.

The Black Lives Matter movement has been picking up steam recently, and it's not really something you wanted to grow. To bring awareness to these issues is one thing, but to have to march for the issues to even be talked about it is a totally different thing. All this means is that once again we have to fight for what should be given. Our ancestors already fought so we didn't have to, and yet we are right back where we started. We as a nation have learned nothing of our parents and their parents and their parents who were also walking up and down the streets demanding to be treated as a human.

Jillian and I watch the TV as news about George Floyd breaks across the country. It feels like Deja vu watching the coverage, like we were in some sort of never ending book. Black man accused of something that they didn't do, or something minor, white man kills them in broad daylight, and people step in to defend him so he will not have to face justice. Black man's family now has to pick up the pieces while the white man gets to live with paid leave. The life that was taken is irreplaceable. Yet the consequence of taking that life is never high enough.

"This is awful" Jillian whispers from beside me.

"How many more people have to die like this before it finally stops" I question. It feels like every other day something like this is on the tv. And it's Covid times... we shouldn't even be out there. To commit a crime like that took effort.

"This is making me sick" she admits. I can hear her voice tremble with every word. So I turn off the tv because we've been like this for hours, I wasn't sure how much more I could take either.

Silence befalls the room, neither of us knew what to say. What to do. My feelings would be more along the line of anger as her would be sadness. Concern. We're both black but we've never really talked about our struggles as black people in America. She knows about my incident back in Georgia and I know what she felt like when she would be fostered by white families. Every black person in this country has had their own struggles with racism one way or another. But collectively right now I think we were all on the same page for once.

"Are you okay" I ask softly.

"I don't know" she whispers. I turn to look at her and I don't think I've ever seen her like this. After all this time she looked... upset. She likes to act like she doesn't care about this world, whichever way it sways. But this... this wasn't something she could ignore or sit idly by. I think, for the first time in her life, she needed to see a change. And she knows it might never come. For justice is hard to come by as a black person in America.

"I know you're scared of the world. You have every right to be. Breonna Taylor was sleeping in her own house when she was shot and killed. We just watched a man get murdered on a sidewalk for being accused of a crime that was never worth the death penalty. And I know that this world has showed you time and time again that it doesn't care about people like you, like me. I get you wanting to stay silent, to suffer alone so no other black girls will have to feel what you did growing up. That fear of being in this world.

But we can't sit here idle, not saying a word. You taught me that" I insist.

"Yes because you're someone capable of making a difference. When you talk people listen. If I say what I want to there is nothing that will change. Why should people listen to me" she counters.

"Because you matter. That's the whole thing right, Black Lives Matter. That means you Jillian" I say.

"One voice cannot be heard. George was begging for his life and they... didn't listen" she whispers.

"You're right. They didn't. But that's why we were always more powerful when there's a bunch of us. Lift every voice and sing" I say.

"Please do not start singing" she giggles.

"I won't. But I'm not going to sit here when I know you want to do something, say something about this too" I insist.

"What can we do" she wonders.

That's the million dollar question, isn't it? What can we do? Our ancestors fought tooth and nail only for us to fall behind again. It almost felt inevitable at this point. New day same old shit. We're tired of it. We get told we get to choose the world we live in, we didn't choose this. So how can we possibly take it back?

"We fight" I finally answer.

"How" she begs. Like as soon as she knew how to do it, it would be done.

"Look. They're protesting" I say showing her my phone. It might be summer, and it might be COVID times, but doesn't stop people from begging for their right to live in this country.

"Oh wow, they are. That's just up the road" she gasps.

"We can join them. Make it so they have to hear us. Eventually, they will all have to listen" I proclaim.

A soft smile spreads across her face as she nods. She quickly gets up and walks away.

"Where are you going" I wonder.

"I have to change. I'm not wearing my PJ's to a protest" she states and I laugh.

"Of course not" I shake my head.