Written: en la sofa
Powered by: my dogs constant sighs of frustration and impatience for me to stop writing and take him on a walk
Inspired by: observations from said walk
He stopped and read the sign displayed in the home window again. MAKE RACISM WRONG AGAIN, written in black on a piece of cardboard.
He thinks, but that’s the thing, it never has been.
He can picture the family that lives there: white most definitely, young and of liberal lineage. Maybe they have a kid, or one on the way, or just the dog for now. He is a budding political writer and she works in operations at a non-profit. They met in the Peace Corps. They would have attended the protests, they probably carried that sign with them when they did. They would have voted for Obama, defended DACA, have never used the “n word” but are uncomfortable with the big black family that lives across the street, the men who gather on the stoop to smoke most days and the cars blasting rap music that park illegally. They will have had conversations with one another about this discomfort, will have “recognized their bias” will still feel proud for choosing to live on a not-yet-but-soon-to-be gentrified street.
He knows these are the people who view themselves as allies, and he knows he needs all of them he can get. But it’s hard to find comfort in a well-intentioned and ignorant cardboard sign left on display in a window.
When a news alert flashes across the phone screen in his hand he can’t bring himself to read it because he doesn’t want to deal with the possibility of another black man murdered. He just wanted to go on a walk.