Mama Bunkfish

Navigating marriage, motherhood, and mental illness on Jesus, caffeine, and naps!

Black Silence

I can’t say that it wouldn’t happen to him

I can’t say that it shouldn’t have happened to him

I can’t say that I raised him better

I can’t say that he was defending himself

I can’t say that he was just reaching for his wallet

I can’t say that he’s a good husband or a good father

Or a good son or a good brother

I can’t say that he meant no harm

Because they’ll say but what about that time in college

Or what about that time that he fought in high school

Or what about how he talks back some time at school

Or what about that he likes a nice whiskey, neat sometimes

Or what about he likes his pants a little baggy and his shirts a little loose

I can’t say that they were wrong

Or that he was targeted

Or that it’s because he’s black

Or that I’ve cried and prayed for years that he’d be okay

Because every time I’ve tried to talk about it

Text about it

Blog about it

Kneel about it

Sing about it

March about it

I was told I was too loud.

To quiet my voice.

To find another way.

And so I stopped saying anything.

And the fear turned to rage and bitterness.

And when they asked me what I had to say I said the same thing they’ve always said.


Leave comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked with *.

%d bloggers like this: