Ferguson broke my heart. When things impact me that deep, I write about them. So, I tried. In fact, I wrote every single day last week, but I could not muster a coherent thought. I sat for hours each day trying to figure out what I wanted to say and looking at how I might say it. Nothing was coherent.

I even used an old trick and wrote everything on my mind. I ended up writing

  • Why Ferguson mattered to me
  • What Ferguson meant for the nation
  • What this might look like 50 years from now when I’m trying to explain it to my kids
  • What it might look like 5 years from now when I have to talk to my nieces about it

Even with these answered, all of my thoughts were just ramblings. The context was too big, the distance to far, the facts too vague and the outcomes too unrealistic.

I was frustrated with the injustice perpetrated by a group of people that I grew up looking to for protection and ethics. The same people, not all of them–not even most, just a handful were killing people and being protected by the law.

I was angry that the world could be watching and that not matter. Really, so publicly? And nothing happens? I was upset because if Ferguson was on fire that meant that my country wasn’t far behind.

I am no longer angry. I’m sad. I’m sad because the city that I love has let me down. We’ve long prided ourselves on commitment to diversity and fairness, but today that promise to our people was not delivered. Today my city mourns together—citizens and police alike. It is true that we may recover, but that is a conversation for tomorrow. For tonight, my head hangs in disgrace and disappointment. Tonight I am sad.

RIP Eric Garner. We hear you.

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