Stop Playing with Us: Black Blood, American Amnesia & the Rage That Built This Nation
There’s a video circulating.
A child, visibly armed. A parent or maybe an officer, speaking softly. No chaos. No panic. Just a situation being… handled. With grace. With care. With the kind of mercy we know damn well is never extended to our kids.
And we’re not shocked—we’re sick.
Because let’s be real: if that child had been Black (or brown), there wouldn’t be a conversation. There’d be a coroner’s report. A press conference full of “we feared for our safety” and “tragic but justified” excuses. There’d be hashtags in place of birthdays, flowers and candles in place of a future. We know this story. We live it on repeat. And still—America swears it’s shocked.
Let me be crystal fucking clear:
If the child in that video were Black, there would be blood on the pavement. Period.
We’re not making assumptions. We’re not speculating. We’re citing historical fact and lived experience. Tamir Rice was twelve. His toy gun was orange-tipped. It took Cleveland police two seconds to shoot him dead. Two. They never even tried to de-escalate. They never saw a child. They saw a threat. Because in this country, Black skin is always treated as a loaded weapon.
But y’all want to keep playing neutral. Keep looking for the “full context.” Keep trying to both-sides white supremacy.
Stop. Fucking. Playing. With. Us.
Black Americans Deserve Better. Full Stop.
We are not here to convince you of our humanity anymore. That era is over. If you still need convincing, you’re the problem. If you’re still quiet, you’re complicit.
Black Americans are owed.
Not charity. Not pity. Justice. Legacy. Power. Land. Wealth. Rest. Healing. Reparations. Full stop.
And while we’re here, let’s talk about the original stewards of this stolen land—Indigenous people. You want to learn American history? You better start before 1492. This land wasn’t “discovered.” It was invaded. And every promise made to the First Nations has been broken. Every treaty shredded. Every sacred site desecrated.
You can’t heal a nation by ignoring the bones it’s built on.
The American Lie: Whiteness as Innocence, Blackness as Danger
White children get grace. They get second chances. They get “troubled.”
Black children get punished. Policed. Killed. Labeled “superpredators” by presidents and pundits.
This isn’t accidental. It’s baked in.
This country was founded on two things:
1. White dominance.
2. Black and Indigenous disposability.
And every institution—policing, education, healthcare, housing—is still infected by that rot. The trauma gets passed down like heirlooms. And every time we name it, they say we’re playing the race card.
Let me tell you something: we are the deck.
For My People: You Are Not Crazy. You Are Not Overreacting. You Are Right.
To every Black woman exhausted by explaining…
To every Black man demonized for existing…
To every Black queer, trans, and disabled soul erased from the narrative…
To every Indigenous warrior fighting erasure…
To every brown person stuck between solidarity and survival…
You’re not imagining it.
You’re not angry for nothing.
You are witnessing the gaslit decay of an empire that was never meant for us.
But guess what?
We’re still here.
And not just surviving.
We’re brilliant. We’re powerful. We are creating art, building businesses, raising generations, loving deeply, mourning out loud, calling ancestors forward, and shaking shit up every damn day.
We Are Not Asking Anymore
We are taking up space.
We are owning our voice.
We are refusing erasure.
We are demanding the world stop spinning on the axis of our oppression.
And if that makes some people uncomfortable? Good.
Because real change is never comfortable. It’s disruptive. It’s loud. It’s inconvenient for the privileged. And it’s long overdue.
To those who claim to love humanity—prove it.
To those who believe in justice—fight for it.
To those who benefit from this system—dismantle it.
And to my Black, Indigenous, and brown people—especially my Black women:
This is your birthright.
Not just to survive,
but to thrive.
To be safe.
To be held.
To be powerful as hell without apology.
FINAL NOTE / CTA:
Join The 83 Society if you’re done playing nice with a system that has never been nice to us. This is where we speak freely, plot boldly, and create what the world refuses to give us. It’s not for the passive—it’s for the powerful.
Because we are not killing ourselves.
We are uprising.
