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As I ride through the city in the days after the rioting and protest there's an eerie silence throughout. A silence that's deafening. People headed to their jobs (those that are left) and going about their day with a sense of uncertainty. You can feel it in the air, the anxiety, the hurt, the anger and discomfort. So many uncertainties.

I cant help but to think of all that's occurred all the racially based violence and destruction. Our neighborhoods will never be the same. The lives the the families left behind that can never be the same. The hatred that has surfaced, it's always been there but now even the more in our faces. I say even the more because though we have all been taught history for some this is the first time we are truly experiencing it. My heart grieves for my people those unjustly classified, beaten, murdered and victimized. For the children whose lives have changed because of a pandemic that no one understands and now have a new fear thrust upon them as news reports and social media are flooded with today's reality. The overwhelming sense of worry when mommy or daddy must leave for work. My mind is plagued with with all of THIS thing we face as reality.

And here I sit torn. Born into blackness, the royalty and richness of who God created me, born into hatred for the very same. Judged and questioned by my own for the career path I've chosen. Mocked because some truly don't understand the depth of my position. Explaining my reality, my heart and my loyalty to those whom I thought were closest to me. Confused by those whom see the uniform & not the heart of ME.......I was born into my blackness and would have it no other way. I stand proudly in the different layers of my being. I'm an activist by choice yet judged because some dont see me fight as they fight, law enforcement my chosen career because I dared to want to make a difference within the system. Yet hated for a uniform. An artist/journalist by heart because creating with my hands is my gift, and preacher of the gospel because I've chosen to respond to the call on my life, none of which changes me being black because God chose this to be my journey, the many layers are all not spoken. Born into blackness yet not black enough for some.

I'm seen as a threat to those I may not even see, the foundation of this world bears strange fruit. Fruit unfamiliar to me who has learned to live with a pure heart. Fruit I can not understand because I bear no hatred in my heart. Fruit that causes anxiety as my husband, children, family & friends leave our homes daily. This is a strange bitter fruit sickening to my heart. I rise daily praying this poison doesn't infiltrate my spirit. Fruit I'd rather starve than to consume but live in fear of because it COULD consume me.