I am tired.
I cannot even tell you how tired I am. I am tired of the endless roll of death and injustice with 15-year-old Quawan Charles–found dead in a sugar cane field in Louisiana earlier this month.
I have seen the pictures of him. I have heard the coroner’s report. I have seen the apathy of the police.
Let me say this, joining my voice with all the other outraged and grieving mothers:
SOMEONE MURDERED THIS CHILD AND Y’ALL KNOW WHO IT IS!
From the details which have been released, Quawan was picked up by people he knew. His mother and father didn’t know he had been picked up. The door to his room was locked from the inside. The car that Quawan was in reeked of bleach. There was no Amber Alert issued. The family needs another independent autopsy! With the wounds that I saw, there was nothing about those wounds which correspond to drowning.
I am reminded of the writer and spoken word artist, Sunni Patterson especially her poem We Know This Place. One of the lines which I have quoted most often is: Not always have we had amnesia.
Say it again: NOT ALWAYS HAVE WE HAD AMNESIA.
There is foul play here. The people that were last seen with this Quawan, are now in the process of moving?! And the further insult, there was an anonymous call made to Quawan’s mother by someone who ‘knew’ what happened! And the police still don’t have a desire to investigate…because the tears of Black women are the amusement of White supremacy.
Yet, we fight. We resist. We question. We ask. We work. When asked why we fight? I answer as only a poet can:
We fight because we cannot afford to die.