I’d just gotten off of an eleven hour flight, grabbed some Mc Donald’s and sat down to call my mom to make sure she would be on time to pick me up from SFO. Once she answered, I told her that I’d made it with excitement in my voice. She replied, “Umm okay.” I’d been living in Spain for the past four months and I just knew she’d be excited to hear from me, so in my head I thought, “Oh wow, this is a game! There is literally going to be a party waiting for me once I get home.” After asking a few questions about my mother’s whereabouts and what she was doing I could sense that something was wrong with her; when I asked her she responded, “I’ll just see you when you get here.”
My mind began to race, thinking about all of the possibilities. I did not want to believe my initial thought, but I knew it was the most likely. I turned to my friend, Tealanie, and said, “Someone died.” The standoffish conversation and short responses from my mom reminded me too much of the day she told me my papaw had passed away.
I decided to check if anyone in my family posted a Facebook update and the first thing I saw on my newsfeed made my stomach begin to knot up and I slammed my laptop shut. I saw a picture of my cousin with the caption, “Still at a loss of words...RIP Brother I love you.” My cousin, Maurice Moore was murdered on December 20, 2015.
While abroad I prayed endlessly, asking for the health and safety of everyone I loved. One of my biggest fears was that something tragic would happen and I would be on the other side of the world. I feared not being able to say I love you. I feared not being able to say goodbye.
Since we are in the era of the Black Lives Matter Movement, the awareness of police killing and mistreatment African Americans has been very prominent. A lot of peoples first reaction to this movement is, “But Black people kill Black people all the time.” While that is no excuse for police officers to unjustly take the lives of many Blacks it is a true statement.
Over 1,400 more Black Americans killed other Black Americans in just two years than were lynched from 1882-1968. It would take cops 40 years to kill as many Black men as have died at the hands of other Black men in 2012 alone.
When presented with facts like this it can be easy to assume the Black people do not value the lives of other Blacks. The issue of Black on Black crime needs to come back to the forefront of current major issues in America.
I am from Oakland, California where the murder toll is easily 100 or more bodies every year, so I’ve always been aware of the issue of violence, but this past December things got even clearer to me. Nothing has ever been so personal. To know that my cousin, Maurice More: the jokester, the son, the father of 5, the car salesman, the Harley Davidson riding man, had his life ended by someone that has no more power than me put a whole new perspective on the issues of Black on Black crime and there needs to be a change.
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