Today

I have been trying to write about this for the past couple days and can’t seem to package this grief as coherently as I would like. Something about it feels like an undoing past the point of already being undone. Headlines, led by the white gaze, full of the latest lynching of a Black person who displays enough innocence for national outrage and enough potential for an acknowledgement of a loss. A video confirmation of a murder and a family outcry as an extension of love. This is not a surprise, we have been here before — making martyrs out of men who, assumably, did not ask for exaltation, just life and life ahead of them.