Rekia Boyd Deserves Better. We All Do.

Today I’m not sad. I’m pissed. 

I’m not here for your “reasoned debate” concerning the lack of justice for Black murder victims. I’m not going to pretend that I buy it when you tell me the prosecutor didn’t make a good enough case or the evidence was insufficient. 

This nation, this culture, would not tolerate a system that routinely, indifferently, and brazenly failed to acknowledge the basic right to life of White bodies. There would be accountability or there would be upheaval. 

I write, not because I think my words alone will change a mind. I write to add my voice to the chorus, so that the ears of everyone complicit in and indifferent to Black suffering will ring.

I don’t want sympathy. I want passion. I want the fire that lit the way for the Three Strikes Law to pass in the wake of the murder of Polly Klaas. I want the indignation that produced Megan’s Law one month after the murder of Megan Kanka. 

I want justice, and I want it now. Don’t tell me how sad or “crazy” it is that Rekia Boyd’s killer won’t ever see the inside of a prison. 

Tell them:

And them:

And them:

And them:

Because I’m out of conversation right now.


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