Here in America, Black people are being asked by their White (or White passing) friends “What should I do?” to end racism. This question occurs, for many of us Black folks, especially, those of us who can trace our roots back to the plantation, like a set up for yet, another lynching.
By Gabriella Callender and edited by Natasha Gordon-Chipembere
When you ask me, “What should I do?” you do not really want me to tell you what to do. You want me take resources from my cup and put them into yours and show you what to do. But now wait. After I have told you, shown you, taught you – now you want me to do it for you? Ok, hold up. I have been doing it for you since 1619. So, now you force me, when I am tired of doing the work for both of us?. When I briefly flew myself from one set of shackled wings to another, you wanted to fly with me. Then, when you broke my wings and I fell and died, you were sad. What will you do and who do you become without me? You need me like Rome needed Africa. Like Rock needs the Blues. You cannot live without me. You will not leave me alone, even when I am dead. Then, when it is a wrap, you ask yet, once again, “What should I do?” You don’t want me to tell you what to do. You want me to tell you how to kill me.