This week’s protests empowered me to talk about the hardest moment of my life

A very personal reflection, by a Cornell senior, on racism in America

In light of the incidents at Mizzou and subsequent protests at other universities, I have finally decided to finally speak out.

As I’ve aged and lost someone very special to me to racism-fueled violence in America, I now can finally acknowledge the absolute struggle it has been these last four and a half years.

The struggle of being a black woman in America who has to work twice as hard to make up for the fact I was born with melanin in my skin. And someone who has to smile every day in the face of adversity and prejudice – during a time where people ignore these sorts of issues in false hope that they will simply fade away with time. Or that it’s already talked about enough in the media that they don’t need speak up – someone else will do that for them.

So after a year of grief counseling, staying silent and working through my issues with racism-fueled violence, I have decided to finally speak up and reflect upon the effect it is having on our youth of today. It pains me to write such a piece because it is a hard subject for me to really talk about.

How can I really put into words the amount of pain brought into my life as a result  of racism-fueled violence? How exactly can I measure my discontent, sadness and pain related to the daily reports of youth being shot down in cold blood, thrown from their vehicles and slammed against walls just because they are a minority, when in fact the love of my life was one of the thousands of youths who’s story didn’t go viral?

And then how can anyone gain the courage to speak up after something like that happens to someone you love? It’s hard. Really hard.

But, after much consideration and prompting from my colleagues, I have decided that it is finally my time to say something — especially since I’m graduating in exactly four weeks and I won’t have a medium such as The Tab to help me get my opinion out there. So here it goes.

 

Most people at Cornell see me and say, “You’re the girl who’s worked everywhere,” “Aren’t you the girl Thunder hates?” or “Damn, you party hard.”

But last fall, the worst moment of my life occurred. In exactly four minutes and 22 seconds, my world was shattered and I lost a giant piece of my heart and soul forever.

A year ago, I got a call from my friend from home – telling me my ex was shot in the spine and then shortly passed away after – three days prior. And in retrospect it was weird not hearing from him for those few days, but we were in one of our normal break periods where we didn’t talk and it was normal – we were young, we needed space sometimes.

The most shocking is that he was shot in cold blood because of a conversation he had about how racist murders should be talked about more. Shot in the back because he prompted a conversation about something that should be talked about without expecting violence in return. That’s all he asked for, a conversation while drunk.

It all started at a party back home one Saturday night, when apparently some guy said something to him about how Trayvon deserved what happened to him. And any rationally minded person would be like, “Nah dude that’s not okay.”

But of course he decided to engage in one of his usual, open minded conversations about how race shouldn’t matter and violence should never be an option (ironic, I know).

Naturally things got heated, some of our friends had to step in and break them apart, thinking that it was over.

Just your standard drunk, political debate at a party during a time where it could easily become a part of conversation. It is our generation’s tendency, of course, to talk about whatever whenever because we expect civility and honest opinions with the given expected disagreement in those opinions.

A civil conversation about something we should want to talk about in this day and age.

People always wanted to know why I never posted about it, why I don’t have/share pictures of him (I deleted them all the night he passed), why I personally deleted his social media profiles, why I never told his true story to the public world. Unlike what everyone else does when you lose someone so important to you, because apparently you have to be trendy for it to be true.

But the most important thing here is that it’s really, really fucking hard to accept within myself that he’s gone and is never coming back – all because he was the one dark skinned mixed guy (like what does that even mean exactly and why is this a thing?) back home who stuck up for the Black Lives Matter movement instead of ignoring the ignorance thrown in his way when he least expected it.

Why? Why is there so much violence based on the color of one’s skin? Why are people dying because of something they cannot control or because they simply believe in a color-blind lifestyle? Why?

Why is it so damn hard to just let people be who they are, and accept the differences in one another without resorting to violence, hate and ignorance?

I just really want to know, why does it take an entire football team sitting out a game for an educational institution to finally take a stand against the racial biases so prevalent within our generation?

Did it really take a potential loss for your finances driven by sports for you to finally realize the way you run your university and ignore the needs and safety of your minority students was batshit crazy?

And then the audacity for Cornell students to sit down via social media and make light of the situation? I just do not and will never understand.

Or why is it that it is OK to post snap stories, like those on the heinous “Cornell.Snaps” feed, where a girl is repeatedly telling a young man over the phone “Monkey is my type. Monkey is my type” and then proceeds to laugh like it’s actually funny.

Yes, random racist girl, I am black. So what?

I lost my ex over a conversation with an ignorant guy who thought his views of solidarity with POCs was jaded and flawed. I lost him because he felt you should judge people on their character, not the color of their skin.

It’s taken a year to finally say what I need to say.

I am tired of hearing how people of color are being gunned down, beaten and stepped on just based on the color of their skin.

I am tired of watching daily videos of young women and men thrown from vehicles, their school desks and sidewalks by people of authority.

To those who have worn black in solidarity for the racism so prevalent among those of our generation as well as those who silently support black lives matter, I salute you.

To those who take time out of their day to talk about the issues that so many ignore because it is “too hard to talk or think about,” I salute you.

It is our time, a generation so fueled by social connection with those around us near and far, to finally start a conversation about the racial, political, social and religious injustices we face both domestically and internationally.

It is now past the point where we can just shrug these things off as we scroll through our newsfeeds, and it is past the point where it is okay to just not talk about it so that it doesn’t exist.

As a young, female person of color who will forever have to live with the memory of a dear lost love torn from my life because of racism-fueled violence, I stand in solidarity with anyone who feels like they are prejudiced against in a modern world that so often boasts that it is beyond antiquated ways of thinking.

It is our time to use the voice our ancestors fought so hard to give us. And it is our time to move beyond the boundaries of race, religion and social norms in order to simply say, “No, that is not okay” and then have the balls to move past the statement and work towards a solution.

We have to be that catalyst of change.

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