A Cry for Peace
I am not an angry black woman. I am just a white mother and grandmother who empathizes with the families of these victims. I am so angry! I am furious! I cannot comprehend the nonchalant, gun-happy attitude of the police! Today they KILLED, NO, THEY MURDERED A THIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD CHILD! A thirteen-year-old child! When is enough, enough? So far this month they murdered a black man because of a twenty-dollar counterfeit bill, a twenty-year-old for an expired registration, and a thirteen-year-old for God knows what reason. They asked the poor kid to show his hands. He was just a little boy. He was scared. He raised his hands. They shot and killed him anyway. Why this bloodbath? Why this cruelty? What is happening to this country? How can we sleep peacefully at night?
Many years ago I had asked my late aunt, who lived in a serene little town outside of London, to come for a visit.
“Oh no! I will never come. You live in a country full of gun-happy cowboys. They scare me,” she replied.
At that time, I found her comment quaint and amusing. Not today. Today I am alarmed and in despair. Two young men just beginning their paths in life were gunned down and annihilated in a matter of a few days. There was no reason for this police action. They were not threatening anyone’s life. If anything, it is the police that we need to be concerned about. I watch the news and I weep. How tragic, oh how very tragic! Please, please, please stop this senseless bloodshed!