I’m Angry and It’s Holy and I Don’t Accept Your Apology

I didn't see it until now.

Oh my gosh, I can't believe this.

What idiots.

So sorry I didn't listen, friend.

These are the text messages that flooded my phone on Wednesday, January 6th. It is a day that will be both remembered and forgotten, and I am not entirely sure which one of those realities is the bigger tragedy. They kept coming all day, and I am writing this to express the truth that every last one of these messages bounced off a heart, a soul even—that is tired, weary, and on life support.

I feel nauseous and petty.

The thought of days, hours, weeks, months, and years spent in "communities" with those who need a literal white supremacist insurrectionist coup to believe what I have been pleading with them to see and acknowledge for the last ten years.

I've been drunk for a decade with revolving, haunting questions,

Why are white people so angry? What are they so afraid of?

What have they had taken from them? How are they not free?

I feel like it is time to spill my guts.

I ran out of f*ck…