Momma says

the world will never take care of me.

Helpful people are there to help little white girls.

I am on my own.

I read and read

the book about Helpful People:

police officers

firefighters

teachers

doctors

lawyers.

I want to believe

anyway

But I don’t.

I tear and tear

the pages out, one by one.

I am tired

of being disappointed.

DEVANTE

“I get it, man,” Robb says. He lounges on his bed, while I slouch in the beanbag chair. I’m currently trouncing his ass at Mario Kart.

The more he says that, the more it reinforces that he doesn’t get it. I shake my head. “I don’t want to keep having this discussion. You aren’t afraid when you walk down the street. You have no idea what that’s like.”

I glance toward Tyrell, as if he’s going to back me up. He has his head buried in a calculus textbook. Headphones on and bobbing his head to the music.

“Damn.” Robb curses as his kart flies off a mushroom into the abyss. “I’m on your side. I’m not saying it’s right.”

I zip around the cartoon curves. I’m comfortably in first place. This is my arena. “You think the issue is police officers making mistakes.”

“A huge pattern of mistakes.”

I shake my head. “Black people doing nothing wrong, getting shot by police. That’s the issue.”

“Right, that’s the mistake.”

“My point is, the issue isn’t mistakes, it’s bias. The underlying reason the so-called mistakes are happening.”

“So-called mistakes?”

“The cops always stand by their actions, because the person was acting suspicious.”

Robb rolls his eyes. “They must’ve done something.”

“There it is!” I snap at him, grasping the truth like a steel trap. Whee-hee! My kart soars across the finish line, creating the victory sound. “You don’t believe they’re innocent.”

“Sure, I do. Not that they actually did something wrong, but the cops thought they did.”

“You don’t get it. Being black is enough to make you suspicious to police.”

“Shae Tatum, running from him. That’s just dumb.”

“She was a child. And had headphones in. She might not even have heard him. That deserves a death sentence?”

“Of course not. I’ve been watching all the coverage,” Robb says. “That’s why he shot. Obviously it’s messed up.”

The conversation goes in a circle. I’m ready to be done. I set my controller aside, as Yoshi dances in victory on top of the winner’s podium. “Look, we’ve got an organizing meeting at the Black House tomorrow. Come if you want to.”

“They’re thinking of going down to join the protests in Underhill, aren’t they?”

“Some people are talking about it, yeah.”

“Hell, yeah. Someone’s got to stand up.”