SURVIVING AMERICA/ BLM LOVE STORY

ONE

"Be prepared for anything that they may throw our way. No matter what happens, don't break the bridge. No matter what, don't stop chanting. No matter what, don't ever stop fighting the racial injustice that our brothers and sisters go through on an everyday basis. No matter what, never stop saying their names. Never let their deaths be in vain. Never let another officer hold you down, scare you into silence, or rewrite your narrative with a single bullet. Never. Stop. Fighting. Because black lives matter, and we know this better than anyone out there. Are you ready for war?"

Her words echoed through me as If I was standing half an inch away from her. I clasped hands with the dark skin misses that stood to my left, a black Afro that sat on top of her tiny head, and her yellow acrylic nails that gently dug into the flesh of my hand that wrapped around hers as we gave each other a knowing nod.

Another body, dropped dead by a bullet of a blue lifer. What was it going to take for them to see things the way we do? Another unarmed African American male who was simply minding his business leaving the local convenience store near campus. I'd seen him around a few times, always shot me a smile when he saw me. Such a friendly guy, gone way too soon, just like all the others.

Kaelin Harvey was his name. He was due to graduate college at the end of the year. He was studying biochemistry. He'd dreamed of being a forensic science technician since he was 12. He had a girlfriend who was pregnant with his child, a loving mother who now has to lay her son six feet under before he even got to meet his unborn child or marry the woman he'd been with since he was 15. Three siblings who he looked after up until he headed out for college, and even then, he still played the role of the man of the household, even miles away from his family.

Everything moved in slow motion as everyone locked arms standing in front of the convenience store chanting, "Say his name: Kaelin Harvey." Police had already arrived, but we were being peaceful, the most they could do was tell us to get lost, and it was our right to tell them no.

Chanting lasted for a little over ten minutes. I didn't plan on leaving nor breaking the human chain until I achieved what I'd set out to achieve, justice for the innocent life that was so effortlessly taken. The sun was beginning to go down quite quickly, but even then, I would be back tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. The officers stood in their lined position, hands tucked as we continued chanting.

A bald officer with a bullhorn and a police uniform that was entirely too tight for him spoke, "you have five minutes to vacate the premises or we will have to use force in order to get you out. Officer Willowbe has been suspended until further notice. Pack up, and leave, or we will begin to use force in order to remove you."

Everyone, including me, groaned and mummerd in disappointment at his words. "How many black lives will be taken away for justice to be served? Officer Willowbe gunned down and killed unarmed, innocent 23 year old Kaelin Harvey and all he gets is a suspension, aka a slap on the wrist? Say it with me, no justice no peace, no crooked police."

The organizer of the peaceful protest chanted, as we all repeated her, not breaking the human chain. I chanted as loud as I could, with all the power and pent up anger that I had within me, "No justice no peace. No crooked police."

Over and over and over again. After only what felt like two seconds, a fire was raging right before my eyes. And not the hallucinated kind. The real kind. Someone threw a lit up towel stuffed inside a bottle of grey goose right in between our line of linked arms, and the guarding officers that were right in front of us. Right in front of me.

Still, I didn't move. I didn't budge, I only chanted, staying in my position and standing my ground with the undercover KKK members that stood across from me. A thick cloud of white smoke began surrounding me and my eyes began to burn immediately, yet I still chanted. All the sadness and pure agony of the amount of deaths the past few years all came draining out of me all at once.