I am My Sister’s Keeper: Processing the Breonna Taylor Verdict
It was 1:45 pm on Wednesday afternoon when I got the news. I was ending a zoom meeting with a colleague when I got wind that the verdict in the Breonna Taylor case was in. Only one officer charged — and not even for the bullets that killed Breonna Shaquelle Taylor. Charges that declared wanton endangerment for the bullets that sprayed the drywall of her white neighbors’ apartment but no charges for the blatant disregard for her life or the lives of others.
Hearing this news, in the middle of the workday, left me paralyzed. At that moment, I could no longer continue to wear the mask that I’ve worn all too often when news like this pours in and continue working as if it was business as usual. I was completely undone. I closed my laptop and allowed the emotions to wash over me like a raging flood. I found myself going from disbelief, to hopelessness, to fear, and then parked at rage. Rage that Breonna would not be given justice and a large payout was being used as a consolation prize for her life. Rage as tears streamed down my face knowing she deserved so much more. Rage in the fact that she didn’t deserve to die in this manner after risking it all as a medical worker to save the countless lives of others in the midst of two catastrophic pandemics. Rage in knowing in my heart that the system would screw her over but mad at myself for believing that maybe, just maybe this ONE time, things would be different and justice would actually be served. Rage in realizing that sleeping while Black, is another item to be added to the overcrowded lists of things that Black people can be killed for in this country. Rage as I continue to see how we as Black people continue to fight for our humanity and dignity in a country that has shown us in every way possible, that our lives simply do not matter. RAGE!
My reactions to this case are layered and cut deep. As a Black, Christian woman this hits different for me. To put my hope in a system that has systemically BEEEEEEN broken and plagued with failure for BIPOC while hoping for a just outcome is like believing that in some mythical way pigs will fly — it simply won’t happen. These systems only continue to serve their original masters and peddle a false narrative that we are all afforded equal and fair justice under the law. Instead, I am reminded that my hope has to continue to be rooted in the One who sees high and rules low to provide justice at the end of it all (Romans 12:19). And though the pain at this moment is thick, I have made the deliberate choice to submit it ALL to God.
So as I continue to process this myriad of emotions, I have intentionally given myself permission to step away for my own self-preservation and be still. In my stillness these past few days, I’ve taken the time to cry out in prayer, commune with nature, hold on tightly to my loved ones, journal, lament, and read the word. Reading the word has provided me with a much-needed reprieve to examine the issues deep in my heart. I am admonished in this moment to continue to “speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves; [and to] ensure justice for those being crushed.” (Proverbs 31:8 NLT)
To conclude, I reminded of this simple truth. I am Breonna. Breonna is me. I am my sister’s keeper. She didn’t deserve this. May we all continue to #SayHerName as we press on to fight for a better tomorrow. Rest on sis, rest on❤️