I remember my first REAL taste of being black in America. Living in Texas (somewhere between 8 and 9 years old) and got called the “n” word. Was never exposed to any historical information about the word itself, even though I loved history, but I remember it.

My first proud to be black moment was when Harold Washington passed away. It seemed like the world around me stopped to mourn a black mayor. Didn’t fully understand it then, but I did over time.

My first negative experiences with the police usually involved a black cop. But I will NEVER forget how a white police officer jumped out of his car on a bunch of 7th graders while old white people were standing on their porches waving their phones at us and threatening us. The first person to ever pull a gun out on me was a white cop. Just because 6 of us were walking in a group from school. None of us knew the “grouping law” (I can’t remember the name of it exactly but we also called it “mob action”) limited groups to no more than 4 or 5 people.

I don’t miss how Riverdale police was when I was in my early teens.

Or how I watched, from my grandmother’s front porch, as what felt like the entirety of 111th Police station (this isn’t a small police station by any means) showed up on 116th street after their officers called for help (they didn’t need it)

Or how a shooting happened at a house party on the corner of 116th and no police showed up but we knew there was an officer sitting in his car on 115th and Harvard (which we found they were STILL THERE after the shooting)

How we KNEW the police would only ride down 119th and 115th but never the blocks. (the stuff we knew)

I also know people who have had to bury loved ones due to the violence being perpetrated within our own neighborhoods. I also understand why someone, out of desperation, would want extreme measures handed out in order to get rid of the element that is causing the issue. Funny thing is, in growing up on the southside of Chicago, I understand why those old white people were so upset about a group of black kids walking their street.

I never said it was right, I said I understand.

For them, it was the thing they moved further south to get away from, following them further south. For us, we was just happy to see the end of a school day. For them, it was the beginning of the end.

Over 20 years ago, I heard Ice Cube refer to something called “The Nigger Trap”. I could see his point. Incarceration rates, new laws being put in place, and so forth and so forth. As I got older, I started to REALLY understand it. Follow along with me real quick because African American History is riddled with these tales.

The promise of riches. At the end of the movie, “Panther” they show a black man meeting with some random looking white men. The black man agrees to start selling crack cocaine in AA neighborhoods. Thus, this is how crack became a problem in the black neighborhoods. But what if he would’ve said no?

What if, instead of chasing riches, he said no. Then, he told others about it scheme meant to destroy our neighborhoods? Maybe we would’ve gotten another black wall street?

Speaking of which,