While I'm mustering the bravery to proudly and persistently proclaim that black lives matter, a band of white guys from Portland are running around calling themselves "Black Pussy" with no consideration for how that registers in the mind of a black girl who has actually been reduced to that by a stranger.
Sarye Huggins is a high school senior in Brooklyn's Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood, a community disproportionately plagued by poverty and violence. Her journey from being a smart, shy girl attending some of the poorest and roughest schools in New York City towards becoming a strong, confident young woman has not been easy.
Multiracial, intergenerational communities have proudly proclaimed that Black lives matter. But "Black lives matter" seems to be associated only with Black men. I want to tell you, Mom, that when I chant those three words, when I march, lie in the streets, or raise my hands symmetrically in the air, I do so to assert your humanity too. You are worthy.
Every time someone asks me whether I would like to move back home when I finish school, I say, "I don't know." But I say it in the way I say things that my heart knows but my brain is opposing. It scares me which tragedy humanity would bestow my sons if I raised them in the U.S, and which tragedy my daughters if I raised them in Kenya.