#TroiWilliams

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Yesterday we found out that #AltonSterling was murdered by white police. So, today when I woke up late, I decided not to rush to work. Because I knew that if I rushed, I would speed, and speeding could lead to potentially getting pulled over by the cops, and then I could possibly die. So, I said, fuck that, and took my time.

Does it make you uncomfortable that I, as a black person, must think like that? It was 9 a.m. and the first thing that was on my mind was, ‘How can I make sure that I do not die today?’ I think this because to be black in America means to fear for your life at every moment. Whether I’m walking, standing, breathing or living. I can die for everything non-violent or violent. I don’t understand how some white people can decide that this is a completely crazy notion that black people are unfairly targeted. And, yes, I say decide because I’m convinced that white people decide to be uncaring, ignorant, and oblivious.

I often wonder how a race that is so dense was able to conquer the entire world.

Today, as I decided that I didn’t want to die, and chose not to rush, I scrolled through Twitter at a red light and began to sob, from seeing yet another black man become a hashtag, #PhilandoCastile. I don’t think I’m able to address the anger, pain and sadness I feel. For the family, myself, black Americans, AMERICA. It is so harsh and heartbreaking, we weren’t even allowed to get over yesterday’s death before they killed another one of us. I walked into work with a sullen face and a blank stare. I walked into a sea of white privilege and knew immediately that I would be alone in my feelings. 

“White privilege is being able to go into work after hearing of a tragedy like this, and go on about your day unaffected, unnerved and unmoved.”

I am convinced that white officers are now just killing black people for sport. It’s like they are the hunter and we, my people, are the prey. Nobody cares about us, they kill us and then throw us back into the wild because it’s a hobby. I am distraught and terrified for my father’s lives, my step brothers, my uncles, everyone I know.

I want everyone white, privileged and screaming #AllLivesMatter to know that thank to you, my life does not matter.

MY LIFE DOES NOT MATTER.

I can’t stress it to you more that my life does not matter. You can say it does, you can believe it does, but time and time again this country had proved to me that I am better off dead. I am nothing. I am trash. I am a body that can some day be 6-feet under thanks to a white police officer. 

I sit in my office today numb, sad and upset. But there’s one thing I’ve realized at the end of all of this: We are at war, and I am ready to die for my beliefs.

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