I’m Running out of Hashtags, by Delvonta’ Pinkston

I feel so many things that it’s hard to even write this sentence. I don’t really have any words. I just have hurt and pain and anger and tears that won’t mean a thing because they, along with my life and body, aren’t valued. How long can I numb myself to pain that has been inflicted on me long before I was here to feel it? How long can I go on creating and sharing hashtags before the next black person is killed, unarmed and unjustly?

As a matter of fact, I am angry. I am extremely angry at the never-ending, systematic racism and discrimination that people of color have to face on a daily basis. I’m upset that I always end up explaining a system of oppression to the same damn people who benefit from the same damn system. It’s aggravating as hell. It’s like shooting someone in the face and then asking them to prove how much it hurts or prove that the shot was even fired in the first place.
 

It’s exhausting and I’m not sure how much more I can take. I’m running out of hashtags because by the time I type and post one, another unarmed black person has been unjustly murdered. Murdered by the very same who are sworn to protect, but then I have to remember that that oath never included me or any other person of color. Not really, anyway. We were never included in that oath to protect or serve because our humanity has never been accepted.

It’s a harsh reality, but it’s one that black people and other people of color are all too accustomed to in this country. It’s living in this reality that makes me wonder if a hashtag is enough to combat this system of oppression. Promoting awareness certainly has its purpose, but how do we move forward? How do we move forward before the hurt and the pain of oppression erode and consume us? I am honest enough to admit that I don’t have the answer.

I don’t have a solution. All I have right now is hurt and pain and anger and tears. Those and hashtags, but like I said, I’m running out. 

Stay Sane,

Delvonta' P.