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There is something unsettling about how we’re given life and then spend a large part of it trying to engineer better ways of killing others.
The thing about poverty is that it obliterates geography; poor people have the same haunted look all across the world. We all share something that makes us part of the same breed regardless of color or language.
Not all white people have the same level of privilege, but they all share an aversion to being forced to step momentarily into otherness.
Being broke is not a financial status; it’s a state of mind. It breaks you. Every setback pushes you closer to believing you don’t deserve better, that you’re struggling because you deserve it, because you’re worthless.
When you see some racist shit going down, you speak the fuck up. Your words will mean something…and so will your silence.”
a silent ally isn’t a thing.
The aftermath of a gunshot is a god cracking his mouth open and letting out a mournful note, a sustained cry that announces the end of a life.
monster of racism has many heads and some of us get bitten by different ones.
