Ferguson, Missouri

For once I feel at a loss for words…Even though I feel there are things that must be said. I rarely post about political issues but tonight I’ve made an exception.
People Mourn.
They ache and bleed and feel things that can’t be explained in words. Maybe thats why I’m having a hard time, because people feel things so deeply that they cant explain them. How can I describe something that someone else cant put into words.
Everything that has happened in Ferguson, Missouri is a cause to mourn. Mourn death, mourn fear, mourn destruction, mourn the coming storm. But in your mourning never forget the importance of nonviolence. VIOLENCE is a word I don’t enjoy writing. It’s a word I often wish we didn’t need to use. What kind of world do we live in today that would perpetuate this kind of hate. People rioting and destroying the place they call home. I hear people talking about racism. Thats a word I’ve had the pleasure of never truly knowing. I have friends of all colors, shapes, and sizes. In my mind I don’t see people based on what makes them different from me. My community doesn’t talk about “hate crimes” or racism. I’ve been lucky to grow up in a more accepting place than that.
I believe their is fear that comes with the word racism. Like if you acknowledge the differences between yourself and others you should feel guilty. I have a fear of saying African American. Mostly because its not a term I use. I rarely feel the need to distinguish someone by the color of their skin. But if I use those words… Even in school… I feel wrong. Like I’ve hurt someone. Yet I never feel hurt when people comment on my color. My skin, my hair, my eyes, my weight, my height… I’ve heard others describe me and I cant ever recall being offended. My skin is naturally very dark but over the last few years I’ve grown rather pale. When people call me “pale” I never feel offended. (I know it different but I promise I have a point.) I even have a friend who calls me her “token cracker…” and yet… it’s never felt like something that should bother me. I’ve been asked to leave my backpack at the counter when at the store… and I don’t feel the need to be angry. I’ve been accused of things I didn’t do. Had officers ask me “where [I] was going so late at night.” And I’ve never felt it had anything to do with me as a person. I’ve never felt the need to take something like that personally. I don’t know what went on between the officer and the boy in Ferguson. And I never will. It happened. It’s horrible and sad. But violence…. that crimson words… is one I don’t like to type. Violence is never the answer. If you are angry speak. Use your words. Find someone who will listen. These riots remind me of a tantrum throwing toddler, destroying their own belongings out of anger. I feel for them. Those people as they mourn that boy. But I can never support violence; not when words are so much more affective. These riots will tarnish our history. They will paint its pages with more blood. As if our history didn’t have enough blood-spill.

Tonight I’ll leave you with this… Violence is defined as behavior involving physical force intended to hurt damage or kill someone or something. Hurt. Damage. Or kill. We’ve all felt enough hurt. We have enough damage. And no one else need to die.I hope I haven’t offended anyone with my opinion tonight. Again I rarely post about political issues. But this is something that has been gravely upsetting me. Remember, the pen is mightier than the sword. Leave violence where it belongs, in our history books. Goodnight everyone.