I’m a black man and I know without a shadow of a doubt, my
life has the least value of any other life on the face of the planet. It hurts, but I have gotten some acceptance
about the matter, it is in essence, what it is.
Timothy Turner was killed in Ohio by a police officer who never did a
day. Sean Bell was killed by police in
New York as well as Amadou Diallo. His killers never did a day because they
were protected by the color of state and federal law. Treyvon Martin was killed and the criminal
justice system co-signed his murder and even made killing unarmed black teens
fashionable and sexy and a charitable endeavor citizens of the U.S. could get
behind and support.
The crux of the matter is pain; these are hurtful revelations,
but truths we must all face as we try to make peace with the realities we are all
up against. I personally have learned
that you must be kill-able before you are killed. You have to be made to look so
ugly that your own mother would detest you.
You have to be hated, feared, and despised; once that criterion is met
you are fair game for assassination. The verbal assignation occurs first, the
mental assassination occurs next, last you get gun blasts to the front and
sides of your head, half alive on the way to being dead. Mama’s
cry , wonder why, their babies have to die, many times for
no reason at all, but all in all…that’s the value of a black life.
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