We are PISSED: What don’t you understand?

Stop complaining about how violent we are when violence is done to us. Stop complaining about the fact that we burn down our neighborhoods, when we live in sh*t, anyway. Stop treating us like garbage and expect to smell sweet roses.

I watched the rioting unfold in Baltimore yesterday, in the wake of the funeral of Freddie Gray, a young black youth who was unlawfully killed by police a week earlier.

The media made certain to post videos and photos of young blacks jumping on cars, throwing rocks, and setting buildings on fire. WHAT DO YOU EXPECT? We have attempted the Peace/Kumbayah thing already and it has not worked.


Freddie Gray was his mother’s son, a brother, a friend. Blacks are scared. We want to live, not just survive. We fear a simple walk down the street. I know it is easy for NON-BLACKS to regurgitate statistics to us that there is high crime in our communities. Yeah! So what? What else is going on?

For you edification, here is a breakdown of the life of an African-American:

A black baby is born.

He already starts out with half a deck of cards.

He comes home to brokenness and despair because the man and woman he belongs to, were too, only born with half a deck.

This deck represents opportunities and life chances.

He grows to be a toddler and his mom enrolls him in school.

He turns 9 years old, but still cannot read.

Mom wants to help him, but she works three very low paying jobs to support him and his siblings – she is doing it alone.

He gets older and his performance in school gets worse.

His classes are overcrowded and his teachers can’t give him the special attention he needs.

He encounters another kid, not much older than he is, and they become instant friends.

This friend talks him into a life where he will be around other youth like him – but they too, are lost, desperate, tired.

So he joins this “gang”, but in his eyes, it is a brotherhood.

He engages in illegal activities, not because he “wants” to, but because it is what his brothers are doing. And he feels love from his brothers.

Every time he is involved in illegal activities, he loses a card from his half deck. And when he is arrested, he loses even more.

He is 17 now.

He is left with only one card to play: The Race Card. The End.

This mirrors the lives of many African-Americans.
We are called angry black men and women. Spoiler alert: We are black and we are angry. Disillusioned.


For those of you who watch the 2-minute rioting videos and makes comments about police being justified in their actions or call the rioters animals because they are “acting out”, try your best to use some logic and reason.

Ask yourself if you lived the life of young black youth in this country, would you not be angry? Walk a mile and then open your mouth.

We don’t want handouts. We want respect and a fair shot. Allow us to fix our schools and broken homes, while you fix your “perfect” legal system and biased police agencies.

Until then, let us be ANGRY in peace!



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