We couldn't breathe, for so many reasons—for fear of contagion, from the confusion brought on by social isolation, and out of the callous and casual nature of the violence we witnessed and re-witnessed in the video of George Floyd's murder, over and over again. The response was not thought out, it was a gut reaction. People donned masks and went into the street demanding justice. Justice for George, for Breonna, for Ahmaud, for Tamir, for Sandra, and on and on.
So many of us, of all races, were at home. And in this makeshift quarantine, many of us suddenly became aware of how dependent we were on others, others we may have barely noticed before. We were suddenly not the captains of our own ships, but a community. We shared isolation, grief, concern. And after May 25, we shared outrage. And for the first time in my memory, everyone—Black, white, Latino, Asian, indigenous, gay, trans—everyone came together as a community to say, "No." No more.
We couldn't breathe, for so many reasons—for fear of contagion, from the confusion brought on by social isolation, and out of the callous and casual nature of the violence we witnessed and re-witnessed in the video of George Floyd's murder, over and over again. The response was not thought out, it was a gut reaction. People donned masks and went into the street demanding justice. Justice for George, for Breonna, for Ahmaud, for Tamir, for Sandra, and on and on.
So many of us, of all races, were at home. And in this makeshift quarantine, many of us suddenly became aware of how dependent we were on others, others we may have barely noticed before. We were suddenly not the captains of our own ships, but a community. We shared isolation, grief, concern. And after May 25, we shared outrage. And for the first time in my memory, everyone—Black, white, Latino, Asian, indigenous, gay, trans—everyone came together as a community to say, "No." No more.