If you think the outcome of the Breonna Taylor case doesn’t apply to you you’re wrong. I live in Louisville, Ky, home of Breonna Taylor. Since her murder, the city of Louisville has been a headline. When I watch NBA games I see her name. When I turn on the local and national news I see her name. When I look on social media I see her name. The reason we see her name so much is because there is a movement, a group of people, who refuse to accept the circumstances of her death. They have made her case their mission and in doing so all of us know the story of Breonna Taylor.

Sadly, the movement of people making her so known isn’t our government, state and local officials, the president, or anyone really in the public eye. They aren’t people with deep pockets and connections to rich white people or corporations (those who are responsible for most of what happens in this country). They aren’t politicians or celebrities (mostly). They are a grassroots movement made up of folks who are refusing to accept that black lives don’t matter, that Breonna Taylor doesn’t matter.

They are the type of people who don’t give up. They type of people who have hope. The type of people that I pray would protest and never stop in the case that my daughter was shot by an officer for no good reason whatsoever.

And yet.

There seems to be some confusion, some kind of misunderstanding, some sense of deep-rooted and cultural divide that makes us believe that these people should just give up, move on, get over it, and accept what is happening with grace, ease, and the word I hear the most “peace.” I’m going to go out on a limb and assume that anyone giving advice or opinions on how protestors should respond to their collective grief, loss, and disparity have never had anyone they loved killed by a police officer who was found not guilty in anything related to their loved one. I am not a violent person and I’m not promoting violence. I do experience my own version of rage from time to time (most times when I read terrible things on the internet). But I cannot begin to express the type of anger that might arise if my daughter were shot dead by the very people that were paid to protect her.

Even if my daughter were a criminal. Even if she were a tramp. Even if she was a “druggy” (which I highly believe is perpetuated by a system that benefits from her being so). Even if she were guilty of something horrendous. My daughter would still have the right to protection, a lawyer, rehabilitation, and hope. None of this even comes close to describing Breonna Taylor, but just to be clear to anyone who still thinks that she may have somehow been responsible for her death, she was not. When we start believing that anyone suspected of a crime has the right to be murdered by police we have a problem.

In fact, I’m having a really hard time with this. I saw a group of men standing on the steps of their local court house holding giant guns because they were asked to wear masks. I’m having trouble believing that we are all okay that the police protocol is that if you were somehow believed to be friends or know someone in your life that at some point was involved with something illegal it’s totally fine for police to break in and kill you. And that is why we should all be concerned. It’s not just whether or not the officers were guilty of doing something wrong, it’s the trouble with the system of why they were there to begin with.

I have two small children. They have the luxury and privilege of growing up in this great and free country as white. By design, it is not likely that the police will bust down their door and shoot them. But if they have a rich and diverse life (like we dream for them) then it is very likely, as things stand now (based on evidence and not angry Facebook posts), one of their friends will experience trauma from the police.

I am deeply affected by the decisions made regarding Breonna Taylor. I feel confused, betrayed, sad, hurt, and scared. I feel a deep understanding that the things I have read, the work I have done, and the consequences that I didn’t want to believe regarding systematic racism are true. I can’t go on with my life as a writer, a human, a mother, a daughter, a citizen, or a woman without acknowledging the effect that this kind of thing has on all of us.

Until there is freedom, there is suffering. We will all suffer. We will suffer with addiction, illness, isolation, betrayal, lies, secrecy, abuse (so so much abuse), unhappiness, discontentment, anger, fear, rage, and a million little tiny things that seem that they don’t matter but they do. The things that keep us up at night, the nag in the pits of our souls, the stomach aches and headaches, the “stress” that we can’t seem to escape.

This issue belongs to all of us. Every single American who has ever said the pledge of allegiance and declared that, in this country, we fight for Liberty and Justice for all is, in part, responsible for making that true. It doesn’t mean just white people living in nice suburban neighborhoods. I take personal responsibility for my part in not knowing who to vote for when it came to the attorney general. For too long, I have believed that the vote for president is the only one that counts.

Here are some ways to take action:

I’ve been following this person since the murder of George Floyd. She sends daily emails filled with actionable information (backed by facts) of how to take action. Some of it is reading and education, sometimes it’s signing a petition, donating, etc. I highly encouraging becoming a Patreon member of her work.

The Action Network Have you ever read stories like these about people who can’t post bail?

Here is another great resource for learning and education (which can be a HUGE fight for racial justice). Again, become a Patreon and pay her for her work.

P.S. If you’re wondering what this has to do with alcohol free-living, I have a couple of thoughts:

-Being alcohol-free means never having the luxury to numb away from the things that I don’t want to know about ever again ever.

-In my opinion, the alcohol industry is another one of those large companies that make money off of the suffering of people. The more I learn about institutions, large corporations, and their connection with lawmakers, the angrier, and more action-oriented I become.

-I have a platform. A very small but mighty platform that I promised myself I would use for truth despite my discomfort or fear.