Tomorrow a judge will decide if the officers on trial, for various reckless charges vs Sean Bell and his associate, are to be found guilty or not guilty. This is an important step for NYC. Most, if not all of us, in the Black community are frequented with vigils and stories created by police abuse or misconduct.

And, we are hard to believe tomorrow will be different. We are loathe to believe that the trial will end differently then it did for one of my friends. Shot in the back, on train platform. He survived the first Iraqi conflict; but we all understand how Black men have killed for the American Dream. Yet, when the darker heroes return home, the police misconducts cause deferred dreams and many nightmares.

Yes, I find it hard to believe. I find it hard to believe the world is going to change. But believe, inshallah, i am going to make prayer that the right decision is rendered. I know what feeling sits in my heart: fry the bastards. But i am not the judge. I am not Allah.

Lucky for them.

It is hard to be Black, and yes that sounds cliche. And yes it is cliche. But truths are repeated often. So many of us are shot, shot at, pushed, kicked, thrown against the wall, jabbed with sticks, told disparaging comments… harassed in varieties and manners I am sure I cannot remember or create.

And tomorrow makes me sweaty and balmy. I am afraid I will spread tears and ignorance if the police walk. I am afraid that my words will make my kids stare at my responses. My disbelief. My anger.

Tonight my eyes will tire from the work I must finish. And, I will sleep. I will wake, walk my two little girls to school.

I will attend my meetings and studio time.

But all day long my mind will keep switching back to trial. Yes the radio is now my best friend. My regular web use is going  to quadruple.

God save the city, and keep the fools full of conversation but not action.

-tai