The discovery of an unidentified black male found dead to rope hanging from a tree near the Charles Allen entrance to Atlanta’s Piedmont Park was stated by the PD stated in an emailed statement and was found to be “consistent with suicide” concurrently while there were many reports that the KKK had been in and around the park the day before the man was found dead. Others noted that the KKK was handing out flyers trying to recruit local residents into the group.
At last night’s rally in Piedmont Park held by #blacklivesmatteratl discovered that the dead male was also a Trans person, recognized by members of ATL’s and national queer community leadership.
I am fiercely angry and look to the streets for temperature for personal safety where there may have been a visage of peace amidst ruin in my world.
I look over my shoulders frequently at sunrise twilight daylight night and hear of multiple occasions of violence and hear see voice terror in the voice of my comrades. There is wavering in the otherwise strength and calm of ferocious bravery. I see Spirit in discernment for wonderings on social justice and awake cramping from poor dreaming and interrupted freedom.
At my local CVS on North Charles, Baltimore, a tall black man followed me from the Pharmacy to the front entrance, stopping me and asked me post-Orlando, “MENTAL ILLNESS!!! WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO ABOUT IT?”
I stopped dead in my tracks and glanced sidelong at his angry face.
“You’re talking to me? You’re talking to me? You’re talking to ME?”
I stopped stunned and about to wring his neck, I put my head down, pulled my sunglasses down onto my face and rushed to my car. His car was beside mine and I quickly got into mine. With a pair of locked windows between us, he pulled out quickly and screeched out of the CVS parking lot.
He continued to look at me from his passenger seat and looked at me for an approving nod for his, “MENTAL ILLNESS!!! WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO ABOUT IT?” where I shopped safely no more.