The story of privilege is one that we hear too often
A white man calls for help with no worries
A black man refuses help even when he is the victim

“911. What is your emergency?”
“Please help. I hear gunshots outside my back door”
“Ma’am help is on the way”

White Privilege is feeling safe enough to walk and talk any way you please
It is to feel comfortable and secured that you will get justice when wronged
It is not having to worry about what you hold in your hands, for in the eyes of the law you can do no wrong
It is the safety blanket that holds you even after shooting an innocent man due to the color of his skin and being able to walk away unscathed merely because you were just doing your job

Someone phones in
“Hello, there’s someone robbing the cars on our street.”
“Can you describe this person?”
“Yeah. He’s 6 ft, maybe. Muscular build. Oh, and he’s black”
All you hear is the color of their skin
“Oh, and he’s black.”
As though that warrants you to mistreat and judge all of them
“Oh, and he’s black.”
Like the melanin that he holds paints nothing but trouble and danger in your eyes

Is that why when you saw a black man walking home that evening you automatically assumed that he was your suspect
Is that why when he ran as soon as you followed him you disregarded the other traits described to you
Is that why when he had reached for his phone to call for help you automatically assumed he had reached for a weapon without confirmation and fired away

“Show me your hands!”
“He’s reaching for something”
Not a second later
You fired your rounds into him

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

“911. What is your emergency?”
“Please help. I hear gunshots outside my back door”
“Ma’am help is on the way”

You said you saw a gun
But there was none
You said it was actually a crow bar
But even that was gone
Did you really see a weapon?

The reports saw nothing but an iPhone 6s
You shot a man with no confirmation of a weapon
You shot a man with no regard for the description of your true culprit
You shot a man with no remorse and without a second thought
Yet you walked away free men
Simply because you were doing your job

Now a man lays in his grave
Never to see the light of the day
Now a mother must find a way to raise her sons alone
Never to see their father once again

How does it feel that your freedom came at the expense of someone else
How does it feel that you get to enjoy the warmth of the sun, yet a family is torn
How does it feel that your skin protects you from prosecution despite being in the wrong

The story of privilege is one we hear too often
When will the cycle of hatred and violence end
You say that you don’t see color
Yet your behavior is driven by the color of our skin

A white man calls for help with no worries
A black man refuses help even when he is the victim

BANG ! BANG! BANG!

“Ma’am please open the door. It’s the police”
“There has been a crime in your backyard, so please stay away.”
She turns only to see her loved one dead

A white man calls for help with no worries
A black man refuses help even when he is the victim
This is the story of privilege that we hear about too often.

– Ayah