Ferguson, Missouri, USA

I don’t quite know how to properly express my rage about Ferguson, Missouri. I don’t know where to start, where to finish. There might be no finish. That might be the biggest ire of my rage. It never stops. The cycle continues. In my head, I know right from wrong. I know cops shouldn’t shoot kids dead on the streets of America. I know tanks shouldn’t roll through the streets to silence protesters. I know that whenever someone wants to speak up and be heard and say, “NO WAY, FUCK YOU! WE’RE NOT TAKING THIS SHIT ANYMORE!” they shouldn’t have to worry about the threat of tear gas or rubber bullets. I know racism is alive and well in the country I live in and that infuriates me. But what infuriates me further is when people tell me it’s not true. When people say racism’s dead or it’s better than it used to be, or it’s not the reason behind the pulling of a trigger. But then what is? It can’t be cigars. It can’t be a kid who knew to throw his hands up in the air. When I see what’s going down, I can’t be angry enough. I can’t compose myself to find the fancy words to convince others to share my rage. Why should anyone need convincing? Where’s the outrage? Why isn’t there more of it? I find myself outraged by a lack of outrage. Outrage born out of empathy. Outrage born out of concern for our fellow human. Don’t try and silence it or pretend it’s not there. Ferguson, Missouri, USA. This land is your land. Don’t pass the buck. The president’s out playing golf. You’re gonna have to get off the sidelines and get a little dirt on your hands. This isn’t patty cake politics.This is real fucking life. This is about a real fucking life that was taken. Gone forever. Mike Brown is dead. And we’re not. I’m tired of being scolded for wanting to improve society. I’m done with being told that we can’t make a difference. Indifference is death. Say something. Scream something. Grab something and shake it. There is no better time to show you’re alive than in the wake of a life that was needlessly put to rest.