Constantly I find myself stuck trying to process everything around me.
I get held up in the fear that something I may say or do will place myself in harm’s way.
And so I process…
As I wake up in the morning and wonder will my clothes invite someone to feel as though it is their right to engage in activities to which I have not given consent.
So I process…
Hablo con cariño con mi gente en la idioma de la tierra, only for some gringo to tell me to go back to where I came from not realizing that is my people’s land.
And so I process…
I look in the mirror before I have meetings to practice the tone I take and the words I use so I don’t come off angry or emotional.
Still I process…
I walk down around in the store giving a nod to my brothers and sisters to let them know that I see them.
Still processing…
I observe the interactions between someone who feels they have an authority over the Black bodies as they call the police over being disrespected.
Still I process….
I stay watching interactions between cops and my brothers and sisters not wanting to witness someone becoming another hashtag.
And I continue to process…
I watch as people I do not know politicize my ENTIRE existence, telling me how to feel and behave.
How to be understanding of other people’s feelings as mine are continuously trampled, abused and tossed aside.
And yet I process…
I go home...processing...to look in the mirror...processing...trying to understand what it is that I feel...processing...trying to give language...processing...I have none...processing...trying to release...processing....trying to cry...processing...knowing that I am not numb...processing...but I can’t feel… processing...I can’t breathe...processing...I can’t stand...processing...I can’t eat...processing... I can’t sleep...processing...I can’t cry…I can’t cry...I can’t cry...
I can’t do ANYTHING, because I am still processing.
I spend so much of my life processing…
I don’t get to live…
I am tired of processing and being stuck.
I just want to live.