I had to say something

My friend texted me this morning that a Baton Rouge man's shooting was "hard to watch." I didn't know what she was talking about, I was still on the train heading in to work and rarely have time to catch the news while rushing out to work.. Being from Baton Rouge, LA, I was naturally curious and immediately went online to see what had occurred.

I then saw his face. A face that reminded me of men I've met along this journey called life. His gold teeth caught my attention first. Yep, he's from home I thought. Gold teeth is something I grew up seeing and I associate them with the South, with Louisiana--with home. I didn't realize until I left home that gold teeth were considered "ghetto" or something only "backwards blacks" in the South wore. The men and women I knew with gold teeth were smart, hardworking, and very prideful people who wore them as a form of cultural expression. Perhaps people outside of the area simply couldn't understand our culture outside of jambalaya and gumbo, I thought, and didn't appreciate what a special people we were.

I read with growing sorrow of what happened to Alton Sterling and couldn't bring myself to watch the video, though the warnings of "Graphic," and "Not safe for work" let me know it was a little different than the other shootings that made the news.

It was. It was gut wrenching to realize this man's final moments as he lay restrained. The fear he must have felt, the helplessness....the bullets ripping through his flesh.

I've been emotional all day. Hundreds of murders every year. I would say like most people in this country, I have become somewhat desensitized. Bullet-riddled bodies drop to the pavement every single day across America. So why is this guy different?

For me, it was his face. We're around the same age, I wondered if we'd ever crossed paths. I had a personal connection to this man and to this place. North Foster Boulevard. My mother and I drove up and down that road hundreds of times. He could have been my uncle who lives near the shooting. My uncle is not a rich man, he's a musician who supports himself doing odd jobs. That could have been him selling cds to make ends meet.

He could have been my cousin.

I still can't bring myself to watch the full video. It's just too much for me right now. Lately I've just been more susceptible than usual to bad news and am working to make space for more positive energy. But when your mornings start like this, it's a little hard

I saw his son break down during a press conference today. At 15 and just entering young adulthood, a boy needs his father. I hope there is a village willing to step in and provide him the guidance he will need.

I hugged my two sons a little tighter when I got home. They are so innocent and have no idea what the world is like. I don't want them to find out, but I know they have to. We all have to learn the truth.

That tomorrow is not promised. Life is not fair. People do bad things. And we will never figure out why.

Good night.