I shared my thoughts about my son but I failed to mention that I'm just as protective of my daughter. Black lives matter. All lives matter. My children's lives matter more.

Her smile is contagious. She is musically gifted. She excels at any instrument because she understands the notes. She sings. She dances. She loves to cook. There are days she drives me crazy! She lights up the hearts of both her dad and her brother. She is determined and inquisitive and bright and social and active and sensitive and kind and SHE.IS.MINE. 

As her mother I have high expectations. I want her to live a happy and fulfilled life. The key word in that statement being LIVE. I worry as all parents do but because of the melanin in her skin my worry is next level. As I watch the Sandra Bland video and as I read the transcript I'm rendered uncomfortable. I squirm in my seat. I look around as if I am watching a forbidden scene and that somehow I will get in trouble if caught. I feel helpless and hopeless, sad, uncomfortable. I think about how the burden of witnessing the events of the last few years were evident in her "tone" and "attitude". How she refused to be victimized and treated as less than simply because of who she was. How she could have just been having a bad day and was in no mood for something as small as a traffic ticket because let's be real we've all been there. I think about how she was "off-script". I'm not going to define what that means because those who know, know. And then I get angry. 

Angry that there is even a script to follow. Angry that a family has to bury this woman. Angry that lies are being told. Angry that conversations and protest don't mean a damn thing at this very moment. Angry because these events are truly insane! The same shit keeps happening and we expect the outcome to be different. Angry because I don't have the answers. Angry because I have high hopes for an unknown future. Angry because the fight will never be fair. 

#sayhername Better yet leave her the fuck alone to begin with.

Mrs. Jones