Diary — May 29, 2020

CW: This post is about COVID-19. If you need a break from it, skip this post.


It’s hard not to cry.

Minneapolis is burning as protestors act, following the latest Black man to die at police hands. Latest in a long line of Black men and women and nonbinary folks, killed for the color of their skin.

Unemployment aid is about to run out for all of us.

I see crowded beaches and reopening stores, when I’m cowering at home, afraid to go out.

Yesterday America passed 100,000 Covid deaths.

And if you ask those in charge, it’s all over.

All over.

Americans lay dead from preventable causes, cold and alone in makeshift morgues set up by overworked healthcare workers, failed by their broken healthcare system.

We’re stretching our meager unemployment aid as far as we can, forced to pay rent that doesn’t stop even though our work did, struggling to decide between food on the table or a roof over our heads.

Many of us are high-risk or afraid to return to work, fearing a second wave we know will come, maybe worse than the first.

Queer children stuck at home with unaccepting parents. Individuals stuck at home with abusive partners. Many Americans stuck on the street, their home in painted circles on the ground, six feet apart.

Our outrage at the systematic oppression and murder of Black America goes unheard.

Because

those in charge think

it’s all over.

We will not be quiet.

We will not go back.

It is not over.

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