Sol Garcia | THE RIDER
When I was young, I used to hold my mother’s hand tightly, so the wind wouldn’t blow me away. Now, it’s not normal winds. It’s tropical storms and hurricanes.
It could be worse. It could be fires that scream brighter than the sun. The ones that paint the sky orange and red but don’t affect the farm workers. Those farm workers continue to work. They’re immune to the dangerous air quality and the harsh comments like, “Stop stealing our jobs, even though we would rather be dead than actually pick food!”
I’m tired of hearing about these fires and storms. I’ll just skip the weather section for now.
“Police officer shoots unarmed Black man in Everywhere, U.S.”
Another fatality. The cops say he threatened them. They acted in self-defense, they say. It was necessary, they say. The man’s mother is shown on the screen, tears flowing from her eyes, just like mine. He suffered from extreme mental health issues, she says. Her cracking voice is tuned out by a system that doesn’t care. It’s later revealed the officers had previous offenses. Only one has been fired since then, while the rest continue to patrol our dangerous streets. Our heroes.
I’m tired of hearing about these deaths. I’ll just skip to politics.
“Ruth Bader Ginsburg dies at 87.”
I can’t grieve over her properly. I need to make an appointment at Planned Parenthood before November, like most of my female friends are doing. We know what dangers may soon be upon us.
“You’re just mad because you can’t kill babies anymore,” they yell at us in Tweets and other posts.
They tune us out when we explain Planned Parenthood provides more resources than just terminating a pregnancy. They don’t listen when we say those who do use that specific resource should be allowed to do so without being shamed for it, for it is their bodies. They don’t listen when we say we have no other option, for we were not born with pockets full of cash and luxury.
I’m tired of hearing about politics. I’ll just skip to sports.
“Department of Education tells states to ban transgender athletes.”
Another discrimination on people who have it hard enough. It doesn’t matter that they have known a pandemic before COVID-19. One stirred by hate from their blood relatives and their closest friends. Every day, they are shamed for being their true selves. They are beaten while waiting for a taxi. Bystanders don’t care. They record and laugh. They are murdered at bars, and their protections are robbed from them on the same day, just a few years apart and under a different presidency. Now, even sports are not allowed for them.
I’m tired of hearing about sports. I’ll just hear state news.
“In recent years, more Fort Hood soldiers have died in homicides than in battle.”
She was only one year older than me, another Hispanic like me. It had been her dream to serve since she was a child. She was supposed to fight for democracy and freedom, just like he was. Instead of remembering his smile as he says, “I do,” his family members will remember the bruises and scratches on his body. He will never get the chance to say those two words.
I’m tired of hearing about all these issues that should never have happened. They say this year is cursed, as if racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, classism and discrimination did not exist before 2020.
I’m so tired of reposting one tragedy after another in the hope of bringing awareness. I’m tired of signing a petition every two hours in the hope that my signature will make a difference. I’m tired of praying every night to God or the Goddess or anyone who will listen to help us all.
My depression and my anxiety worsen as I hear about the latest tragedy. They never, ever stop.
Yet, I continue to fight. I repost and bring awareness to my closest friends. I sign petition after petition. When possible, I donate. As tired as I am, I will help make the world better in any way I can. We cannot rest until we are all free. We do not have the privilege of holding our mothers’ hands anymore.
