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It Feels Like Being on Death Row

This is an extremely disturbing issue that needs to be addressed forcefully and immediately. It gets plenty of media attention – though mostly as morbid fascination for some (those who are safely removed from the danger of police violence) and a reason to be outraged for others (those who indulge in taking the moral high ground without putting themselves at risk of losing their “privilege”) – but instead of just bitching and moaning we need to step up and go face to face with the people who are allowing it to continue: police organizations and the delusional, self-important force and order agencies who act as if they’re impervious to errors in judgement and are above the civilized concept they are meant to uphold – law.

We need to fill the state capitols throughout the country and make our voices heard. Unless, that is, you don’t object to living in a police state simply because the only way you suffer is through the collective violence of the loss of civil rights, heightened fear (and hate) and censorship – and you’re somehow able to pretend these insidious things aren’t happening.

White Supremacy does violence to everyone. If it isn’t physical violence inflicted on you due to the color of your skin, it’s a blemish on virtually everything you accomplish in this world since you don’t really know how much of what you’ve done is personal accomplishment and how much is a gift tainted by evil intentions of sick, manipulative predators.

Moorbey'z Blog


After hearing about the two Sacramento police officers who tragically shot and killed 22-year-old unarmed Black male Stephon Clark because they thought that he had a gun when in fact he had a cell phone, I was seized yet again by that profoundly uncomfortable feeling of trying to make sense of what it means to be a Black male in contemporary white America, an America that has always spelled out in unambiguous and brutal terms that Black bodies are disposable, especially when compared to white bodies, white life.  There was that profound sense of grieving yet again for a Black body killed by the state or proxies of the state. There was that sudden flood of outrage and deep melancholia as I was inundated with recent memories. After hearing the 911 audio tape of the killing of unarmed 17-year-old Black male Trayvon Martin, I wept. After…

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