A few weeks ago I deleted all of the social media apps on my phone because I needed a break from the onslaught of coronavirus information and statistics. The amount of information being released detailing how COVID-19 disproportionately affects Black people (and knowing that multiple people in my family have tested positive for the disease), is exhausting. Learning that disparities in testing center locations are widespread, is exhausting. Listening to both the state and national government continually express that restarting the economy is more important than humans (the majority of which, are Black) dying of COVID-19, is exhausting. So I deleted Instagram and Facebook from my phone, bought a few books to read, and went on about my life.
On May 26th, I logged on the Instagram and Facebook for a virtual celebration for a family member. The first two things that popped up on my timeline were #AmyCooper and #JusticeforGeorgeFloyd. I quickly researched what both hashtags meant, then went to bed. Let me rephrase – I saw that a woman weaponized her whiteness and called the police on a black man bird-watching in New York, saw that a black man had been murdered by a white police officer in Minnesota and went *clapping hand emoji* to *clapping hand emoji* bed. *clapping hand emoji*
I went to bed, because it was just another day of being Black in America. Another exhausting day of being Black in America.
We are dying at alarming rates because of this pandemic – 1 in every 2,000 Black people in the United States have died from the disease.
We are unable to run, birdwatch, or sleep at home, without fear.
We are subjected to videos of Black bodies being reposted on social media and the news.
We sit and watch as the people we know who are not Black sit in silence, refusing to educate themselves on the issues, forcing us to continue to stand up for ourselves.
We are exhausted. Being Black in America right now, is exhausting.
That’s it. That’s the post.