Don’t Kill Yourself Slowly

Easier said than done. We are all internalizing the violent imagery and truth of this country. I think most of us know it isn’t so much increasing, it’s just being captured now more than ever. But, this week, I’m trying to make good on my commitment to heal my pain by finding some agency and hope whenever the headlines bring shivers to my soul.

On page 45 of Kiese Laymon’s How To Slowly Kill Yourself and Others in America, he states:

“I’m not the smartest boy in the world by a long shot, but even in my funk I know that easy remedies like eating your way out of sad, or fucking your way out of sad, or lying your way out of sad, or slanging your way out of sad, or robbing your way out of sad, or gambling your way out of sad, or shooting your way out of sad, are just slower, more acceptable ways for desperate folks, and especially paroled black boys in our country, to kill ourselves and others close to us in America”.

Last week, the headline was “Korryn Gaines: Mother holding five-year-old son shot dead by police during traffic violations arrest stand-off”.

I couldn’t watch the video of her son in a hospital bed recounting the death of his mother. That would have broke me. I avoid it. I like a few statuses. Keep up with the national reporting. Watch a few clips of the stand-off, read a few comments. White man saying she got what she deserved. Blue Lives Matter folk come ready. Black woman asking why we’re not as mad as we were for Sterling. Black man asking why black folks are supporting this lady with a shotgun…

Don’t kill yourself slowly.

This week, the headline reads “A white homeowner called 911 to report ‘hoodlums’ outside. Then he fatally shot a black man”.

The white homeowner is named Chad Copley. He’s who Kiese Laymon refers to when he says “no matter what, the worst of white folk will do anything to get you”. The fatally shot black man is Kouren-Rodney Bernard Thomas. He’s who Simone Butler-Thomas referred to when she said “This is my baby. He looks just like me.”

Just like you, at first my soul shuddered. I tried to go to that desensitized place, but my mind raced to how many white folk have now read Ta-Nehisi Coates’ memoir Between the World and Me, and how it might still not be enough to break their inertia–tendency to do nothing. I wonder if they’ll raise their children, talk to their uncles, fathers, and brothers and convince them not to kill my children, uncles, father, and brothers.

Anthony Browder argues that the origin of white supremacy could be attributed to “the arrival of 12 kidnapped Africans, presented as a ‘gift’, at the court of Prince Henry of Portugal in 1441.” Nearly six centuries later, and all I’m wondering is in which court Chad wanted to present Kouren-Rodney’s body. I’m wondering if our courts will actually convict him.

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This picture was taken about 36 days ago on July 7th. It was the same week Alton Sterling and Philando Castile were murdered. Later on the night of July 7th, the country would mourn the shooting of Dallas police officers. I attended Chelsea’s swearing-in ceremony because it gave me hope and it beat sitting at home and watching violence constantly on replay on my Facebook feed and TV broadcasts. Writing the letter of support for Chelsea that was read by the mayor was rewarding. It gave me an avenue to process the pain. Seeing her win gave me hope.

Don’t kill yourself slowly.

Listen to her words: “I was born in Seoul, South Korea but was adopted and raised on the Crow Indian reservation by my caucasian mother and Crow Indian father.  As a child, I was fluent in Crow language and have straddled several cultures throughout my life.  This background has made me particularly sensitive to issues involving race, language, poverty, substance abuse and mental health concerns.  The best use of my legal skills, personal background, and dedication to my community is to serve as a county court judge.  I will treat each individual with patience, dignity, and respect.”

It’s a small step. She’s one individual but she’s hope. Hope is community representation. It’s advocating for our people. It’s figuring out how to navigate spaces of power without losing our identities. Best of all, it beats killing ourselves slowly.

One more example if you still don’t understand. When Officer Coleman Brackney was charged with felony manslaughter for murdering James Ahern and took a plea deal. Do you know what he did next? He did his jail time and then became the police chief in Sulphur Springs, a neighboring city about 20 miles from his last crime scene.
Don’t kill yourself slowly. Heal your pain. Feel your rage. Transition from rage to hope by finding your agency.