The American Spring

By Chandlor Henderson

The main reason I am beginning this blog and leaving FB and Instagram is because of this revolt. When George Floyd died I shared the normal post that I always do, it was the first thing I saw, but I went about my day. I didn’t expect the world to explode the way it did. I didn’t expect for it to be such a moment that forced the lawmakers to write a bill to take away police protections. I didn’t expect to hear about Donald Trump running into a bunker. I thought it would be business as usual, as it always has been. But it wasn’t. Something happened to people, which although is a little late, is better than never.

When Tamir Rice was murdered for playing with his toy gun, my day did not just go on. That was one of the saddest moments of my life. That was a moment I truly felt defeated. That is the moment the world should have woken up. Even with all that has happened in this week or so, I will never forgive America for that. I will never be proud of what it is that “we” stand for, because it’s clear that we don’t stand for the same thing. I will never be proud of those devils.

I cannot say I am not a proud American. I am proud of what Black Americans have overcome. I’m proud of our music, style, dance, and food. But that is an African story — it doesn’t belong to America. I intend on documenting these and other protests where I see them. As well as dope bands, festivals, art shows, farmers markets, and whatever I think is cool. I’d love it if I never had to protest again and could just make jokes. It would be great. I’m not holding my breath, but I do hold on to hope. My wish is that I am not alone.

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