This Is Us
I Am Not a Protester
But I’ve found other ways to commit myself to seeking justice
I wasn’t always comfortable admitting in-the-street protest was not my lane. Unfortunately, there’s a false stigma that if you’re not on the front lines, you’re not about it. And I fell into believing that — which made me feel small, lazy, and self-doubting.
But I grew out of that belief. I realized my place in the fight isn’t on the front lines, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make a difference. This is about how I got there, and how when we own our role in social justice, we better support the roles of others.
Finally, I had arrived. A biracial Black kid who grew up in Section 8, finally getting a salary fit for an adult. I was writing for a living, a storyteller. I had made it, baby. I was my ancestors’ greatest dream.
Then Michael Brown was murdered by cops.
In 2014, if you were to ask me about racism, I probably would’ve said, “Yeah, I’ve got some stories for you.” That time six campus police officers pulled guns on me, saying I fit the description of a suspect. The times the N-word was thrown my way. The weekly requests to touch my hair. I would say I had a pretty clear handle on my identity. And I would’ve said my life was my protest — living happily as a…
