Hope when we’re on our knees

Not mine, of course, but I feel this. I see these things and I cry because I know what it is like to be discriminated against. For lesbians, I know what it is like. For blind people, I know what it is like. For overweight people, I know what it is like. And of course, for children of divorced parents, and for rape victims, in a way that no one knows unless they have been that rape victim, I know what it is like. And this post encompasses everything (or almost everything) I have ever felt about discrimination.

Vanessa Mártir's Blog

I was maybe eleven or twelve years old the first time I saw police officers grab a man and slam him to the ground. The man was not being violent. To this day I don’t know what he did. I know that he was a drug addict. This was Bushwick, Brooklyn during the crack era so it wasn’t a far stretch. I knew that from the way his face sagged, how his eyes shifted in that sad, lost way unique to drug addicts. His clothes were caked with dirt and grime. He was whispering to himself and his hands jerked nervously.

The man was walking in front of us when the cop car rolled up. No sirens, just the loud screech of brakes. The doors shot open and those men in blue hurtled out, guns drawn.

I was with a group of kids walking just feet away. We were on…

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