Tag: blm

#SAYHERNAME! SONYA MASSEY

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“I rebuke you in the name of Jesus.”

As a woman from the Bible Belt I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve heard people say the phrase, “I rebuke you in the name of Jesus.” Sometimes it’s a joke. Other times it is a very serious statement. Never have I heard that phrase and feared for my or anyone else’s life. But on July 6th, Sonya Massey was murdered by police after she repeated the phrase.

Sonya Massey called police because she believed someone might have burglarized her apartment or tried to enter it (those exact facts have been reported differently). As she was looking for her ID, the officer noticed a pot boiling on the stove and directed her to remove it to avoid a fire. As she went to go remove it and move towards the counter/sink, one officer backs up.
She asks him “Where you going?”
Officer 1: “Away from your hot steaming water!”
Sonya: “Away from my hot steaming water?”
Officer 1: “yeah”
Sonya: “Oh. I rebuke you in the name of Jesus.”
Officer 2: “huh?”
Sonya: “I rebuke you in the name of Jesus.”
Officer 2: “You better f*cking not. I swear to God. I’ll f*cking shoot you in your f*cking face!”
Officer 2, Deputy Grayson, pulls his gun immediately.
Sonya: “Ok. I’m sorry!”
Sonya holds something red in front of her face. It was not the pot of water. That pot was black.
Officer 2: “Drop the f*cking pot!”
Then she sets it down and hides behind the counter.
Officer 2: “Drop the f*cking pot!”
Officer 1 pulls his gun
Officer 2, Deputy Grayson, fires his gun 3 times, indeed shooting her in the face.

Officer 1 offers to get his aid kit.
Officer 2: Nah it’s a headshot (chuckles) dude she’s done. You can go get it but it’s a headshot.

They continue to discuss for another minute or two before rendering any type of aid.

Sonya Massey didn’t deserve to die.

She didn’t deserve to be treated this way. She was not a threat to them. She never raised the pot above the counter. She didn’t deserve to be killed in her own home. If she had in fact thrown the pot of water at them, deadly force would not have been justified. But she never threatened them. Or did she?

Did the rebuke activate the evil in the officer? Did the mention of the name of Jesus infuriate him? Did their response of backing up reveal that they were not the best intentioned? Was the threat a spiritual one? Was she rebuking their fear of her? Was she rebuking racial bias? Was she rebuking an evil spirit she picked up on them because of their actions?

Was he like many other officers?… Was he guilty of racial prejudice and bias that says that Black folk are a threat even when, like Sonya, we present as non-threatening?

We will never know what exactly caused her to say those words from her mouth. What we do know is that after acquiescing and following their orders, she still ended up murdered in her home over a pot of boiling water and a phrase.

Every time I hear the phrase, “I rebuke you in the name of Jesus,” I will think of Sonya Massey.

Watch the video here. https://www.nbcchicago.com/news/local/video-reveals-tense-scene-of-sangamon-county-shooting-sonya-massey-springfield/3497418/


A Word on “Peaceful Protests”

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It completely blows me how we have begun using the term “Peaceful Protest.” In my opinion, there ain’t nothing peaceful ’bout a protest. They are loud and disruptive even when we just sit in silence on the hot pavement for 8 minutes and 46 seconds remembering the amount of time it took for George Floyd to die underneath the weight of a cops knee.

Ain’t nothing peaceful ’bout that.

I distinctly remember the girl in front of me shedding tears as we sat in the heat. There was another person nearby that kept breathing loudly. I felt antsy and kept thinking, “This is taking a long time.”

Of course it was a long time – A long time to choke – A long time to gasp for air – A long time to sit and watch because you’re too afraid to help for fear of losing your own life – A long time.

There ain’t nothing peaceful ’bout a protest.

It’s disruptive to the spirit. We shouldn’t even have to be out there. And yet, here we are, yelling, marching, speaking, singing, chanting and sitting in anguish waiting for 8 minutes and 46 seconds to pass by.

Ain’t nothing peaceful ’bout that.

It’s disruptive to the world. Somebody won’t be able to drive their regular route. Someone will be annoyed by large numbers of people gathering to speak their minds. Others won’t understand why now during a pandemic. Doesn’t seem like the police care about killing us even though there’s a pandemic so why should we stop protesting?

There ain’t nothing peaceful ’bout a protest.

Secretly, I’ve been replaying the feeling of being surrounded by people, by my friends and shouting chants and feeling like that even if I shout as loud as I can, things still won’t change. Secretly feeling like burning the whole city down and knowing that the media would spin that too. Hating the fact that I cringed the first few times they dropped an F bomb in a chant and then later screaming F bombs as loud as possible because the reality of being of no value to prejudiced and discriminatory systems, organizations and the government finally dawned on me. They don’t really care about us, so “F” them.

Ain’t nothing peaceful ’bout that.

Even prayer becomes protest. I pray the Psalms that ask God to devour my enemies and their children’s children. I implore God to not leave my people desolate because we are His. I beg God to give us victory and to slay the giant that is racism and poverty and bigotry and health care disparity.

Everything about a protest disrupts. It disrupts the status quo, traffic, people’s mindsets, hearts and the atmosphere. It’s disruptive and rightfully so. It’s loud and rightfully so. It’s chaotic and rightfully so. It’s organized and rightfully so. It’s painful and rightfully so.

There.

Ain’t.

Nothing.

Peaceful.

‘Bout.

A.

Protest.

My heart has been vexed ever since… My spirit is disturbed… I haven’t been at peace since

Lament 23: A Psalm 23 Re-write because nothing makes sense

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Lament 23 – Jasmine Katrice Version (JKV)

1 The Lord is my shepherd – but sometimes my needs aren’t met

2 He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters – but somehow, I don’t feel peace

3 He restoreth my soul: Only to lead me into darker paths for his name’s sake – a lot of people do a lot of things in your name and a lot of those things have harmed us and caused irreparable damage.

4 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear all the evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me – but will they protect me?

5 Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies – I’m afraid to sit down. Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over with fear.

6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life but it will never catch up to me and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever at the hands of the evil walking, living and breathing in a world you created.

Dear God, what are you gonna do about this?

Yea Though I Walk Through The Valley of The Shadow of Death…I Will Fear All The Evil

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Oluwatoyin Salau

I’m having a hard time this early morning. Not because it’s early, but because the world I live in is evil. It’s not just among the gutters of systemic racism and the actors who continuously perpetuate it. The evil isn’t only present in the school to prison pipeline or the prison industrial complex. I’m not just talking about the evil that causes Black mothers and birthers to receive far less care from doctors and OBGYN’s during childbirth. Nor I am only alluding to the evil that spews from the gun triggers of racist white or complicit cops into the countless bodies of my Black siblings. Not even the hands, knees or holds that choke us out of our last breaths. Nah not those.

I’m talking about the evil that is present amongst us in the Black Church. The form of evil that allows Black male pastors to act like the oppressors in one of the few places we as a people should freely love and care for one another. I’m talking about the evil that stares us in the face when our Black boys and girls are allowed to live in dangerous and violent homes because their daddy is the head deacon. I’m talking about the evil that’s complicit with looking over the Black women and girls and children who need its care the most.

We are walking through the valley of the shadow of death these days and honestly…I fear all of the evil.

I’m also talking about the evil that takes place when our sons and daughters are told that instances of sexual abuse, assault, incest and molestation are their fault. The evil that prevails when Black women trust a Black man to look out for them but he instead takes advantage of her.

Even more-so, I’m talking about the evil that prevails when Black women turn a blind eye to the peril taking place in another Black woman’s life.

I know what I’ve read about Oluwatoyin Salau. Her story is not a standalone issue. It is, however, a single drop in a bucket full of similar and even more horrific stories. Stories where women have been deceived. Not cared for. Overlooked. Thrown away. Ignored. Defiled.

Killed.

Murdered by hands with skin the same color as her own.

I sometimes, and dreadfully say that I expect this type of thing from someone of a different race because they don’t value us in the first place.

But when your spiritual and physical death comes by the hands of those you trusted because you were skin kin…I have a loss for words.

Black Women…All we got is us.

We gotta look out for each other. We gotta stand up for each other.

Black Men…You gotta do better.

You gotta stop taking what’s not yours. Stop using your power to hold us down.

Black People…We gotta speak out. We gotta stop acting like this evil world loves us and love ourselves.

All this evil. I see it. I hear it. I feel it. I fear it.

Sure God has not given us a spirit of fear…

…but what happens when we trust God with our lives? With the lives of our children and our loved ones? What happens when we trust God and bad things happen? What happens when we devote our lives to standing up for God’s creation within the Black community and are killed by the hands of those we are fighting for?

I just don’t know anymore. I sit with the questions knowing I may never have the answers. But I do know that God’s integrity is on the line. I keep hearing my friend and sister Janiece Williams, MDiv., say this in my head.

“God, your integrity is on the line.”

You can’t keep letting this happen to us, to our friends or to our family.

God, what are you gonna do about this?