The Starbucks I tell people is on 7Th Ave South but is really on Grove Street in The Village is where I was when I found out my friend was raped. I hate that it was here, because it’s the Starbucks where shitty kids steal earned belongings from half-decent people like me when we ask the neighboring table to keep an eye on them. So now, not only am I grieving for my friend, I have to keep my eyes clear enough to see these thieves.
Fuck it, I figure, let the tears come.
My friend was raped in the front seat of a car by a boy she trusted enough to give her a ride home from the movie they watched and laughed at together. I could have taken the 1 uptown, walked a couple blocks, hopped on the D, and been at her door within two hours, but I could only sit there and think [..]
When did they stop killing Black women in public? Some grand turn of events. Suffrage movement perhaps, or maybe the racists are starting to read bell hooks or Warsan Shire and deciding that, after all, Black women are ladies just like the racists’ mothers are ladies, and when they were punished by the racists’ fathers [..]
We’re celebrating the commutation of drug-related sentences by President Obama like DC, Detroit, Baltimore, Charlottesville, Louisville, Miami, and every other town with areas we walk through cautiously at night, doesn’t exist. We’re patting the president on the back with the audacity of hope in our eyes, simultaneously cleaning up and putting back together the neighborhoods, families, and lives the drugs these offenders were selling have helped destroy. I can’t help but feel like a frat house janitor, cleaning up what I know will be destroyed again and again. [..]