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Yesterday I was scrolling through Instagram and came upon the conspiracy theory that Sandra Bland was already deceased in her mug shot. Upon reading this my stomach dropped, as if the situation wasn’t already bad enough. It shook me. I then felt a real fear of leaving the house. What seemed like a routine traffic stop for a minor infraction turned into a Black 
woman losing her life. It could have been me. I could be the educated black woman who forgot to signal and got targeted by a racist cop. For the rest of my work day I was super cognizant of every time I used my signal to turn or merge in traffic. I was hyper-aware of police cars near me. At any given moment I could be killed for something so trivial and there would be nothing my people could do. I’m scared. I thought I was kind of shielded with my female privilege. I don’t fit the outwardly negative stereotypes of Black people so I’m safe, right?
It is a hard pill to swallow and I don’t believe for a second that she committed suicide. Something is up and local government ain’t gonna do a damn thing about it. Sad that Black people have to call on the Federal Government for help finding some semblance of justice. Sad we have a Black president and we are still be hunted down in the streets like animals. Sad I am afraid to have kids because I know I can’t protect them from white supremacy. Sad I am realizing I don’t directly control my life due to the systematic racism. Sad, just sad.
Today I leave for Houston for Delta Sigma Theta Sorority, Inc.’s national convention and I’m interested in knowing what we are going to do. Thousands of Black women descending on a city just an hour away from where Sandra lost her life and I want to know what we are going to do. Sometimes I feel safe in my California Kumbaya Bubble, but yesterday I lost that sense of security. I am Sandra Bland. Say Her Name.
#SandraBland #SayHerName
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