My City Screams

little tyshawn

It’s very hard for me to write coherently at this moment about the violence that has plagued Chicago since I left 9 years ago because frankly, I get choked up.  I really do.

From Tyshawn Lee to Laquan McDonald, the violence that erupts when one pulls the trigger, be it a monstrous criminal or officer, is irrevocable.  When I heard the words “9 year old” or “cover-up,” it gets my blood boiling.  It makes me want to see heads roll.  It makes me despair.  I left my beautiful city 9 years ago, and despite all the faces I see in Facebook living it up as transplants, it distracts me from what’s really happening on the ground level, where bodies are strewn about as they drown in their own blood.  Black bodies of people who should be dreaming, hoping and striving, not dying.

I get angry when I hear the words “Rahm” and “CPD”.  Do I want him out of office?  YES!  Do I want someone to pay?  HELL YES!  But I also want people the city can trust.  People we can still look up to.  People who we know can protect and love us without herding Chicagoans (mind you, BLACK CHICAGOANS SPECIFICALLY) around like sheep behind blue fences because there are wars happening.  Wars that erupt over trifles that cost us our little ones.  Little ones who could one day bring us all out of the darkness.

So to all those out on the streets, I stand with you.  To all those holding signs, I shout with you.  To all those deep in sadness, I weep with you.  And to all of those who are wishing for a more peaceful Chicago, I dream with you.

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