This isn’t the time for me to share with you my personal grief. This is a time for others to take the mic.
At 9:06 p.m., I can hear the protesters outside from my window in Bed-Stuy. I don’t join them because I would be an impediment. You can see from the videos they are peaceful. When I wasn’t recording, I was banging my water bottle in time. I don’t know if it was a stupid thing to do. I don’t know what the right thing IS to do. But when I did it, the protesters started cheering. So…I think it was ok?
And then they were gone. It felt good to witness it. I don’t know if that’s ok either.
What I can tell you is that seeing something on the news and seeing it happen to people you know are two very different things.
The last time I got this unnameable mix of emotions was in January 2011, in the aftermath of the Tucson shooting that left Gabrielle Giffords paralyzed and 18 others shot.
When Obama came to town, he showed the mark of a leader who knew what tone to strike. And we came together as a city. We cheered in a break from shock and sorrow.
I borrow the hope from that night to sturdy me through this one because I feel heavy and I don’t know what else to do.
But there are people out there. And they’re energized.