How to Be Single and Happy in Charlotte During a Protest

11:52 AM

Whoever wondered if and when Charlotte would grow some balls (raises hand), be careful what you wonder about. 

Last week we made world headlines for another senseless killing at the hand of American cops. It got (un)real around Wednesday night, when protests turned violent Uptown. Arguably, the marching and looting was done out of haste, since we don't know if the victim, Keith Lamont Scott, had a gun. (Hmp, I mean, we know wussup, and by we I mean the woke ones but I digress; stories like Charlotte's never play out correctly.)

As the city seems to creep back into normalcy, I have to reflect on not just what was, but why. Let's face it, Keith Scott -- almost a year before he was killed last week by the police -- was no model citizen. He threatened to do the killing according to a filed complaint against none other than his wife. 

Like everyone here said, it all looked as if it was happening somewhere else. Even the part where the nine-year-old spoke her little heart out at a city council meeting the other night. Left wondering if folks are certain of what they are fighting for, I forced self-care time by checking out of Facebook and the so-called water-cooler talk. 

Then my Tyra called. Chilling in her first month as a college freshman, she sounded as confused as I was, and as I still am. This is saddening though, because I have been walking around with question marks inside of thought bubbles for over a week now.

I put her at ease the only way I know how, with ridicule: 

"Hmp. Everyone will be back to not caring soon..." I began assuring her.

"Until the next time, huh?"

She's finishing my sentences with her own dose of sarcasm. My baby! 

Around Saturday, in my quest to be like "eff the police, eff the National Guard and eff white people as a whole!", I found myself in traffic heading Uptown stopped behind these dudes:
My first thought was to flash 'em, to be honest. What can I say? Not only am I not uprising right, but the perverted ideas in my head won't shut the hell...*looks at chest*...I mean they are still top-raising worthy, even with a slight sag. Yay for 40-something-year-olds everywhere.

My bad, I'm seeing someone now. 

And he's black. And he's a male, so this makes him a target and should make me feel guilty as hell for not pumping a fist in the air one time. Never mind the fact that when I reminded him that black people are under attack, he quickly turned it into a game of who's more at risk in Amerikka. I knew it was one of those times where I should pick my battles. Again.

Okay then; how 'bout a battle of trying to make time for us in between his crazy-azz work schedule. Yes, he told he he's a workaholic but...I wasn't ready. I mean, my schedule is cray but his is like his own little Charlotte crisis. For me to deal with. And we ain't got that much time under our belts. I mean belt, since he claims I'm all about myself and he's on "we". What fucking ever man; I didn't sign up for all this loneliness. 

It is now eight days after the shooting, and several months after the relationship began. Throughout it all, I'm not sure how should I feel about any of it. Just like I checked out of the news -- minus the periodical social media/media-media peeking -- I guess I could check out of the relationship until it gets easier to digest -- minus the occasional poking. 

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4 comments

  1. Do you feel like it is happening elsewhere as it is so surreal?

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    1. At times I did feel that way, surreal. Now, since it's pretty much the past (the theme this week has shifted from anger and separation to healing and togetherness) it feels real. Not sure why it's now real though.

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  2. I am so frustrated with all these shootings and how the government isn't really doing anything about it.

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    1. It's really up to the local figures. They need to do more than offer "administrative leave". That's like a vacation for some.

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