I wish I could say I “found” this while finishing my run today, but it found me. I had seen something fluttering around, getting tossed back and forth along the edge of the highway about a block away, but I didn’t think too much of it. I had been struggling to get in formation with Beyoncé when it flew smack into my person. And at the same moment, “Glory” from Selma started playing. If that ain’t an act of God, then I don’t know what is.
(Awkwardly) holding it up as I ran home was the least I could do for her. For the countless other cis and trans Black women that are rendered invisible in life and promptly ignored in death.
I did not make this sign, but I sincerely thank whoever did. I did not leave the house today with the intent to protest. Home is not a space that allows me to publicly do so, though I have always considered running while Black and female to be plenty resistant—especially now.
But today, my little display along Richmond (formerly Jefferson Davis) Highway was for #BreonnaTaylor.
For #OluwatoyinSalau.
For #RiahMilton and #DominiqueFells.
For them.
For me.
#SayHerName
Bad Blackadémique 