I CAN'T BREATHE

 

"Stop right there!" 

No, not again. I can't keep going through this every other evening. I'm on my way home from work, just minding my business, and they come after me every time. Why does it have to be like this? What have I done in this life to keep them riding me like I'm some sort of common criminal? I look around to see if there are others nearby, but it's just as dark and deserted as any other Harlem street after all the shops are closed. 

 "Let me see some ID." 

My blood is beginning to boil like a pot of hot grits on too high heat. I know I should try to stay calm, but the pop pop popping of every blood vessel in my body is calling out for me to scream, shout, let it all out. I'm so tired of this. I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired. I'm on the edge of just...No. 

No! I have seen too many videos of too many cops shooting too many innocent victims for simply standing up for their rights. What will he do to me if I start yelling and screaming about how unfair this is? I haven't done anything! I am just trying to go home after a long day at work. I work hard! I work long hours! I work for little better than minimum wage! I don't deserve this type of treatment. 

"Did you hear me? Where is your ID?" 

"Why?" I say, my throat as dry as a matza cracker. " What do you need to see my ID for, what have I done? Have I broken any laws?" My heart is racing, fit to be tied, right out of my chest. Come on, Tam, just show the guy some ID, my head tells me, but my heart isn't in it. I want to resist. I don't want them to keep treating me like a second class... I would say citizen, but I don't think this is how a citizen of the United States of America should be treated. "What have I done, and why are you stopping me? I know my rights." 

"Oh! We've got a smart one, do we? You can either show me some ID right here, or we can take you down to the station until we identify you. You fit the exact description of a perp we're looking for in a robbery in the neighborhood." 

I know he's lying. The only "description" I fit is the fact that I'm a black male in a black neighborhood. Most people don't even call the cops around these streets. More often than not, they end up shooting the wrong person; sometimes, the person actually calling for help. I know he's lying, but what can I do about it? He can say whatever he likes, and the law will back him up. Their Laws were made to keep a foot on the necks of the poor and the blacks and all the "others" that threaten their fragile sense of superiority. 

"Do you understand English, boy? I want to see some ID, and I want to see it right now," he says as he puts his hand on the gun holstered on his right hip. 

"I refuse to be harassed like this. I'm just walking home from work. If you want to call my employer, I will give you his number; but I'm well within my rights. You cannot stop me without probable cause." It sounded like I was confident, I think; but my hands were shaking, and I swear my voice cracked more than once. "Do what you want, but I'm taking law classes over at Burisma College, and this is unacceptable!" 

"Is it unacceptable? Well, why didn't you say that in the first place," he says - his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You sure seem like an upstanding citizen. Excuse me for presuming to think you could be our robbery suspect, sir. You are free to go." 

I was so surprised that I barely thanked the officer; I just wanted to get out of there. 

As I turned to walk away, I felt a pain in the back of my head;  as I tried to raise my hands to the offending spot, hands grabbed my wrists and pulled them behind my back. He put me in handcuffs and then proceeded to go through my pockets. 

"You just keep your mouth shut, you uppity nigger. When I ask you for something, you do as I say. I could shoot you right now, and no one would care. It's not smart to try and grab for a police officer's gun. Don't you know that?" 

"Fuck you, you fucking..." I tried to say, but he had pushed my face down onto the pavement and kicked me in the mouth. The warm smell of blood filled my nostrils, and I tasted...red...on my tongue. I don't know why I thought of red, but it didn't taste like any food I could remember eating. It's how I imagine the color red would taste: thick, slow, heavy. It started to choke me as it ran down the back of my throat. I gagged and convulsed and tried to spit it out.

"I can't breathe," I tried to say, but the words weren't coming out. "I can't breathe" again and again until I blacked out. 

MASKS AND MANDATES - It shouldn't be political

SHOULD VOTING BE THIS DIFFICULT?

Early voting started in New York City. I awoke with a determination to cast my ballot - to be counted. There was no rush, but I knew that I needed to get it done as soon as possible. 

That first morning, I washed up, ate, dressed, and headed out. My polling place is in the next block from where I live. Before I reached the corner, I could see the lines. Those lines snaked up, down, and around... and around the block. My heart sank a little.

Taking out my phone, I started at the front of the line and walked around the block to record this phenomenon. I have voted every year since I was eighteen years old. I have voted in several cities. I have voted in this particular neighborhood for the last seventeen years and four presidential elections. Never have I seen lines outside of my polling place. 

The line wrapped around the entire block more than twice. It bunched and stalled and crawled and bundled. The faces I noticed were not happy, but they were not mad either. They seemed to be nothing more than determined. 

At one point, I thanked those I passed for coming out to vote. My mind was reeling at the connotations, but I didn't stay. I couldn't stand out there that long with more than a week of early voting left. I made a video, to post to Instagram, about the experience. Then, I walked home and began uploading and editing the video on the massive crowds standing in line - not for a concert but - to vote for their government representation.

I planned to try again the next day. Again, I arose and got myself together and trudged to the next block. Again, lines were wrapping around and around. I'll try again tomorrow. Tomorrow is a Monday, and most people will probably be at work. I thought this, forgetting that it's Covid season and thousands, if not millions, of people are laid off or unemployed. 

Never-the-less, I arose early and attacked the morning to stand in line. Stand in line, I did. Except, I forgot that my polling place wasn't opening for another two hours. It was a cold and dreary morning. It started to drizzle. I gave up and went back to my warm apartment. 

Thwarted! Once again, I felt like I could have tried harder. But, I still have several days left. I'm undeterred. I will try every day until election day if need be. 

Before heading to bed that night, I checked the weather and noted two decent, partly cloudy but warmer days coming. Yes! I should be able to handle that. I fell to sleeping soundly through the night and woke up early, once again, to have some fruit and oatmeal and head out. I had forgotten that the place didn't open until noon, so I picked up a few things at the store and made my way home. 

I have my plan. It's cool but not too cold outside. I'll go out at 11:15 and wait for their noon opening. That's it. Today is the day. I hope today is the day. I'm already getting a tad exasperated with the whole thing. My enthusiasm is beginning to wane. 

Then I remembered, they just confirmed a new Supreme Court Justice in the middle of the night. She had been sworn in at the Capitol in record time. No! It was more than enough to reinforce my resolve. 

The time came. I packed my bag with a few things to keep my mind occupied. Approaching the corner, I saw the line was barely two blocks long - much better than the last few days. I took my place, and people started quickly filling in behind me. Before twenty minutes had passed, people had occupied the next block and a half. I couldn't see where the line ended. 

It was still a little chilly as the sun was barely peeking from behind the clouds. I mentioned that I lived close by and might go to get a jacket, and the guy behind assured me that he would hold my place, but I stuck it out for a while. 

The line began moving in fits and starts. I looked up from the game I was playing to see the line coming towards me. It wasn't my line; it was the second wrap-around of the new line. It was beginning to extend past me. By now, it was about 12:15. 

It seemed that the line was moving incredibly slowly. I got around the next corner and needed a bathroom break. My buddy held it down for me. We had never met and only talked for a brief few moments, but he was now my buddy. He was behind me. He had my back. 

I probably should have grabbed another jacket and scarf while relieving myself, but I didn't want the line to suddenly start moving and leave me behind. So, I handled my business and quickly trundled myself back to my space. They had barely moved. 

Thank God for a good book and Bid Whist Plus. I read and played, read and played. Now and then, I answered a few texts and quickly stuck my head back into my iPad (which was down to 13%), but I was approaching the final corner. The doorway was just beyond that corner. 

When I rounded that final bend, I felt the sunshine down on my body, and my outlook instantly improved. My spirits lifted, and I started looking around to see if I recognized anyone from the neighborhood. I didn't. There were so many faces, and I didn't want to stare. There was lively conversation here and there, but, like me, most people had brought along things to keep them occupied and entertained. They were busy reading, talking on the phone, playing games on their devices, and sweating out this once-in-a-lifetime, Democracy-threatening election. 

Am I being a bit dramatic? No, I don't think so. Every person who follows politics believes this is the most divisive election in the history of these United States. We all know that there needs to be a resounding defeat of our current president to send a message to Washington. I don't know if we can do enough, but I would not miss this chance to save my life (and lives may be in danger due to the risk of catching Covid). 

The doors to the building are looming closer and closer. The poll workers admonish us, again and again, to keep our social distance. Instructions are given. The front of the line is getting antsy. We enter, take our places, sanitize our hands, step forward. Step forward, please. Thank you.

I retrieve my ballot, mark my choices, and run it through the machine. Counted! Counted! Counted!

If history is to be made this year, I resolve to be a part of that history. I have lived to tell the story. It took what seemed like a lifetime, but I did it. I stayed the course and made my mark. I hope it counts. 

God! I hope it counts. 

Early Voting in NYC's Washington Hts.

MISLEAD (apolitical poem)

 There once was a leader, almost red

Who danced on the graves of the dead

Hundreds of thousands

Died on his watch

His family was always well-fed

They skimmed from the kids they were charged

With helping, A charity at large

No one was the wiser

They pointed and despised her

Crooks were they all

We're mislead

"Violence Is Not The Way"

 

I was invited to a watch party on Facebook, and protesters in Philadelphia were attempting to pull down

a statue in a public square. It was equally comical and alarming. It was comical because it was clear

that they were acting out with no practical knowledge and alarming because I was afraid it would

topple over, crushing dozens of them under its weight. 

The scene was riveting to me. Though I had planned to head outside for a walk in the pleasant 80-degree weather that was blanketing New York City, I could not tear myself away. 

Into my reverie came the comment section with caucasian people calling it a "tragedy" and "disgusting." It set my blood to boiling. I posed several questions: "Which do you find more disgusting, the pulling down of a stone statue or the killing of black and brown people with no justifiable cause?", "Is the statue more important than the constant loss of Life they are protesting," "Are you as disgusted by three to four police putting their full body weight on a man until he dies - no trial, no jury of his peers? Killed. Murdered. And for what?"

I have yet to receive an answer to these questions.

Earlier in the day, I had gone to pick up a few groceries from the store and received a call from a good friend who lives in a city further south. He wanted to know if I had been watching the footage and photos of the many protests all over the Country - Philly, Cleveland, Atlanta, New York, Boston. So many.

We chatted about the ongoing state of race relations in America and the narrative pushed by the media. We commiserated over the continued marginalization of our people. We discussed the possibilities of the whole Coronavirus pandemic being a planned event (him being a bit of a conspiracy theorist, at times). Then, we hit upon a topic that was slightly contentious between us: Why are people rioting? Is that going to make it better or worse? 

Let me say that I am a proponent of non-violence, in general, and nonviolent protest specifically. However, I believe that it will take dozens of disparate approaches for any real change to occur. Some will need to fight back, and others will find their calling being nonviolent. There will be those who can circulate petitions and those who can get the ear of our representatives in office. I hope that all will use their right and responsibility to vote, but voting alone will not change people's hearts. 

People wax nostalgic about Martin Luther King, Jr. and his nonviolent protests, but it was not the lone approach of Dr. King that brought about Civil Rights. It was a combination of factions, including him, and Malcolm X, and the Black Panther Party, and the Nation of Islam, and, and, and…

Lest you forget, both the nonviolent Dr. King and the more militant Malcolm X were assassinated. 

I also remember reading the story of Nelson Mandela and realizing that, even though he was the leading figure touted in the struggle for equality in South Africa, there were many coalitions in that fight - some followed the nonviolent path, others were much more militaristic. They blew up houses, businesses, and power plants - if memory serves me correctly. 

There is no one walk to freedom and equality. 

As we continued our conversation, we came to the tentative conclusion that people need to do what they are willing to do. Those who can be nonviolent in the face of violence should do so. Those who are predisposed to fight, go to jail, be beaten and abused, should be ready to take their lumps for the cause. 

Black men, women, and children are being killed by those sworn to protect US even when doing things as innocuous as playing in a playground, driving down a street, or sleeping in their own homes. Who are you to say that they should only protest peacefully in the face of genocide? 

In this Facebook watch party, someone stated that "violence doesn't help anything," and I reminded them that the USA was created when people took to the streets, tarred and feathered their British overlords, and fought for Independence. Was it a smooth, safe, and nonviolent transition of power? No! 

Power concedes nothing without a fight. 

Every uprising has its detractors. There are those who would uphold the status quo as long as it is working for them. They will attempt to vilify those who are being unjustly jailed, beaten, and even killed before they will demand accountability from those sworn to uphold the Law.

"Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness." 

There is no Liberty in being killed for passing a small, fake bill to buy groceries. There is no Liberty in being murdered for failing to signal while driving down a deserted street. There is no Liberty in being assassinated while playing with a toy gun in a playground. There is no life that is not sacred and holy and worthy of due process. 

If you have not been demanding justice for Amadou Diallo, Sandra Bland, and Tamir Rice, how can you now declare that "violence is not the way."  Violence has been perpetrated on our kind from before we were brought to this Country. You birthed US in brutality during slavery. You taught US, from your history books, that violence is the way to get what we want. You continue to grind your knee into our necks and expect US to be complacent and nonviolent in the face of your cruelty.

It is going to take an economic, spiritual, and political revolution to stop the murder and subjugation of minorities in this Country. You are either with US or against US. 

Which is it? 

Vice-Presidential Debate (REACTION)

No One Was Warned

 

We had more catastrophic news today - October 2, 2020 (this has not been the best news year). 

I awoke to a frosty, damp, and muggy day right after the sun peeked over the horizon to be obscured by dark pillows in the sky. I usually listen to the news when I arise, so I popped on my Bluetooth, to not disturb the neighbors. The first story was: President Trump and First Lady Melania test positive for Covid 19. 

My jaw hit the floor. So many emotions and thoughts were doing marathons around my skull. I was not surprised, but I was curious about how he finally contracted it and if he was handling the situation via Twitter. 

I logged into my Twitter account while listening to the few details that were available to find what he had tweeted just after midnight: "Tonight, @FLOTUS and I tested positive for COVID-19. We will begin our quarantine and recovery process immediately. We will get through this TOGETHER!" Hm. I read it with a bit of bravado and attitude, as I imagine he typed it. 

My instinctive thought? It serves you right. 

Hey, I'm human. I'm not vindictive and hateful; I don't think. I believe in live and let live. But, I also believe in Karma with a capital K. 

This is the "world leader" who has been publicly telling the American people that Coronavirus is "a hoax." He has also said, "This is a flu. This is like a flu." "It's going to disappear. One day it's like a miracle, it will disappear." and "But it affects virtually nobody. It's an amazing thing." 

Trump has been publicly humiliating news people and democratic governors about mask mandates. He has refused to wear a mask and also refused to stop having mass rallies where his followers refuse to wear masks. In the 1st presidential debate, he mocked Joe Biden for wearing "the biggest mask I've ever seen."

Yet he admitted, in a taped interview, to knowing how dangerous this current Covid strain is and continued, as recently as a few days ago, to lie to US all. 

Karma!

The president contracting Covid was not the catastrophic news. 

While watching Democracy Now a few hours later in the day and tweeting with followers and friends, I learned that the US potus did several heinous things that border on criminal. Again, I was not surprised. Unfortunately, I have had more than three years of one disaster after another with this administration. There is one bombshell that follows a blowup that portends a new disaster. I feel like the guy in the commercial that has 'seen it all.' My heart and mind brace for impact every time I click on a website, listen to the news or read political articles careening through cyberspace.

No. I was shook... dismayed... horrified... angry... but I was not surprised. 

A close aide to President Trump was feeling ill after a rally and quarantined on the trip home on Air Force One. 

There were reporters, politicians, aides, secret service, flight attendants, pilots, and the president on the plane.

No one was warned that someone who was sick, and possibly had Covid, was on the plane. A plane. The air circulates throughout. There is no outside ventilation. There are no mask mandates under this administration. It is a free-for-all. 

No one was warned. 

The next day, the president had a donor event. 

No one was warned. 

He tests positive for Covid 19 and tweets it out. 

There are hundreds, if not thousands, of people who have come into contact with him over the last two weeks. He did not even let people on the plane know that they had been exposed. They found out via social media or the news. Some still may not know. 

Some still may not know. 

This is being called a 'super-spreader scenario.' 

Trump has visited three states and interacted with unknown thousands of people. He claims that those close to him are tested regularly. Yet, one of his closest aides has probably had the virus for two weeks or more. 

Once Trump found out, what did he do? Did he start the process of contact tracing? Did he alert those who may have been exposed? Did he mention it at all? No. He hid it. He hid it from everyone. 

I am trying to wrap my head around the horror of this realization. No, it is not a surprise. It is disheartening and disgusting. I am saddened and more than a little outraged. 

There will be people who will hem and haw and make excuses and gaslight. There will be those who will be calling for sympathy and patience. There will be those who will be hoping for the worst outcome. 

I know what I want—an End to this administration. 

This man does not care about the health and safety of those closest to him, so you should realize that he does not care about you. If a large majority of Americans do not understand this and vote him out, I don't know how much longer our Democracy can survive.