I can’t call to order a pizza because it makes me panic.
I can’t look the waiter in the eye when ordering my meal because it makes me panic.
I can’t think about going to college because it makes me panic.
And my mom wants to squeeze the panic out of me.
But no matter how hard she hugs me, the anxiety will still be there.
And I feel bad because I know that as bad as it is for me, it’s just as bad for her.
When I run out of my medication, instead of calling the pharmacy, I call her and ask her to call for the refill.
And she does.
Because she knows it’s the only way to help me.
And I thank her and tell her I love her
And my dad reminds me I’m 20 years old
And I need to do these things on my own.
And he rolls his eyes when I have to tap on doors eight times to stop the panic.
And he doesn’t get that 21 is safe because of 3×7, but 19 makes me panic.
But sometimes he calls and orders my pizza for me.
And I just tell him that I love him.
Are you calling me a liar?
Well I ain’t calling you a truther.
I am not Mike Brown. I am white. I am middle class. I am female. I am small. I am not considered a threat. When police see me they see someone who looks like them. They see their mothers, their daughters, their sisters, themselves. I am not at risk of being shot by police for existing while black. I am not at risk of being shot while unarmed. I am not at risk of being shot while armed with nothing more than a BB gun. I am not at risk of being shot for reaching for my wallet. I am privileged.
But I am outraged. And if you aren’t outraged, then you aren’t paying attention. This is America in 2014. This is our reality. It’s so easy to get jaded and to ignore these atrocities, to act like this doesn’t affect us. It’s so easy to get apathetic. In the past it was the youth who protested. Where is the rage of the youth? Where is our rage?
Like I said, I am not Mike Brown. But I am outraged.
Girls get mocked for liking high heels and lipstick. Girls get mocked for liking sports. Girls get mocked for liking tea and books. Girls get mocked for liking comics books and video games. Girls get mocked for liking math and science. Girls get mocked for liking boys. Girls get mocked for liking girls. Girls get mocked for liking both. What the fuck are we supposed to like? Water? Air? Come on, tell me. I’m dying to know.
Does anyone remember the commercials where the kids asked for ravioli and their parents said no so the kid put it back but then the can threw itself off the shelf and rolled its way to the kids house and the mom was so accepting of it when she found it not thinking if her kid took it anyways after her saying no and they ate it for dinner.
And I don’t know what to do, say or feel. Because I love you. I love you so fucking much. And I am hopeless, because you are filled with such greatness and brightness and strenght, yet I am this mess. I’m summed in the darkness, and you seem to be my only source of light. You are so perfect, yet so human. You make mistakes, you have flaws, you feel, you cry. And I can’t help but fall in love with every single change in you.