As a black woman, I know the fight for justice is never over. Generation after generation, Black people have been fighting for peace and reconciliation. Even with little victories here and there, the blatant disregard for Black lives, Black culture, and Black hopes and dreams continue. Let me set the scene for you all – June 2020, following the murders of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and Ahmaud Arbery, I am attending my first protest. In my 21 years of life, I had never seen or been able to comprehend this type of uproar and uprising over lives lost. I’ve seen the outrage from Black communities all over when we were faced with cases like Trayvon Martin and Sandra Bland, but this was the first time I was actually able to participate in physical marches. I’m surrounded by my friends and family, and countless other San Diego citizens who are grieving the loss of these beautiful lives. I’m angry, I’m confused, I’m hurt, but most of all, I want justice. For too long people who’ve believed they were above the law and were within their right to take a life have been proven right by our “justice system.” I remember vividly, walking for hours around San Diego County, poster in hand, screaming at the top of my lungs just hoping that the right people heard me. That people who had the power to convict these criminals would hear and understand the outcry of the people.
Fast forward, September 2020- one of four police officers involved in Breonna Taylor’s death is charged with wanton endangerment. I heard it put so profoundly, “He was charged with the bullets that missed.” He was charged for putting lives in danger but not for the life he took. Even with all the protesting, petitions signed, and public outrage these men are still not being held accountable for Breonna’s life. Her family suffers every day because of the choices those officers made. What makes it even worse is the city acknowledged Breonna’s death shouldn’t have happened. They knew it was wrong but they are holding no one responsible for it.
The night we all got word that these men would not be held responsible, my family and I did what we did four short months ago. We hit the streets of San Diego joining others in a walking protest. This one, however, was much more emotional than the first few at the beginning of summer. I couldn’t help but think… “Why are we here again? We just did this. How long will we have to fight this fight?” Just like other members of the community, I was devastated. I could not and still cannot understand how something so clearly wrong did not warrant any consequences. Before this news came out, the city of Louisville placed restrictions on their citizens in hopes to stop protesting. They knew the decision to not hold anyone responsible would set the community off. They knew their decision was wrong. They decided Breonna’s life did not matter enough for anyone to be held accountable. Her life did not matter enough to call for help once it was clear that she was fighting for her life. Her life did not matter enough to recognize that the officers didn’t even need to be there in the first place.
Walking at the protest that night, I couldn’t help but cry. When I think of Breonna Taylor, I think of my sisters, I think of my mom, I think of myself. The reality is it could have been any one of us. Society absolutely has to do better for Black women. Has to.
“There’s a Black woman in your life right now deserving of more. Start there.”
