I am at a loss for words this week. No, it’s not because of writer’s block, or not having confidence in my writing. This week, I am scared. I know Covid-19 is still an issue, but now our country was once again reminded of the horrors of police brutality. A Black man named George Floyd was killed while in police custody when an officer kneeled on his neck for almost 9 minutes in Minneapolis, Minnesota. This has sparked a series of protests throughout the world who are crying out for change. This isn’t the part that scares me. This movement has been screaming for change for years. I support the efforts of the protesters, and I understand that people will always take advantage of an opportunity to loot. I know protesters and looters are not the same. I know all cops aren’t bad. The thing that scares me is even with such extreme examples within weeks of each other, people still don’t get it. I am not going to sit here and lecture you about racism and white privilege. I have done that enough on my own social media, and I am tired.

I’m not saying I have all of the answers, I don’t. I’m not perfect by any means. This is what I have learned from listening to my black friends throughout my life. I learned it isn’t always about immediately jumping in a situation to fix it with my privilege. It’s about listening to what they need in that moment, and then acting accordingly.

My favorite person in the entire world is a black woman. Carmen Gabriel has been my best friend since I was 14, and honestly, you probably would not be reading this if we hadn’t become friends.  She was the main person who helped me realize I enjoyed writing every day. We have swapped stories and characters for over a decade. Her family is my family, but we have only known each other in person since 2012. We became roommates in 2014 after I had trouble with reliable aide care, so she moved to Chicago in order to take care of me. Then I saw first hand some of the racism she experienced every day. I watched as a policeman clutched his gun as we walked toward him as she pushed my manual wheelchair. 

Once our home security alarm went off because we had forgotten to disarm it when we woke up. Carmen answered the door in her nightie and they asked for her ID repeatedly, and only left when I showed them mine even though we were both on the lease.

A few months ago Carmen went to take our dog out late one night, and she accidentally left her phone in the apartment. I fell asleep,  woke up a little while later, and Carmen was not back yet. I called 911 because I was worried someone had hurt her. She walked in just as I described what she was wearing, and I sobbed because I was that relieved that she and our puppy were safe.  I am worried for all Black people in the U.S., but I hope one day soon I won’t have to be scared that my best friend might become another hashtag.