Run Nigga, Run!
I wish I knew how it feels to be free.
I wish I could stop running but that’s how I stay alive.
Running for survival. Running for my sanity. Running for liberation, whatever the fuck that looks like.
Running from the nightmarish realities of living in a racist society as a 237 pound Black Man where every white man around here with a gun is threatened by my existence and is legally justified to terminate my precious life to satisfy their persistent paranoia.
Running from the darkness of the backroads and isolating areas of this small country town where Black people shapeshift into strange fruit hanging from the tall trees under the moonlight.
Running to work to overemphasize my potential and ignore my limitations to earn inadequate wages in an inflated economy. Running to work after work to compensate for the difference. Running to pay all of these bills before the electric company runs to shut off my lights, the landlord runs to evict me, and my family is forced to run away from my inability to provide.
Running from the blitzkrieg of propaganda trying to convince me that I aint shit if I do not satisfy the racist and dehumanizing standards of the coercive conundrum of colonial capitalism.
Running for the knowledge that will liberate me from the subconscious colonial programming installed in my being before I became aware that I am the primary target in America’s psychological warfare. Running from that hatred I have for the colonized portions of my consciousness that operate in total opposition to my natural circumstance as a melanated man on planet earth. Running from the “house negro” in my brain whispering submission and reminding me of the painful consequences for standing as a sovereign man in massa’s house. Running from my own reflection when I reflect on all the times I’ve bowed my head, all the times I knew better but still sacrificed myself, all the times I let fear stand in the way of liberation.
Running from these white folks that say they want to be my friend. They only want to be my friend in this colonized condition. If I start to be myself and rejuvenate my roots bursting out of my DNA then they run to the curriculum of their white scholars that say I’m behaving and perceiving in an uncivilized manner, they measure my humanity and normalcy to the standards of their colonial systems, and when things get too dark and primitive they run to the police to force me back into submission. They don’t want to be my friend, they just want me as a pet, a negro dog that waves his tail and is excited to fetch the bones they throw.
Running through this concrete jungle looking for a place to call my home. Where can I go exist in peace where white folks don’t already own the land or make the rules? Nobody owns the land, earth ain’t something you can buy. If I don’t run to make the money they made up to empower themselves and keep me poor, then I guess the road will be my home cause I’ll have to stay on the run.
Running from this shitty food that always makes me sick. Running to the grocery store to cook this shit myself, but it don’t make a difference, consuming this food still has me running to the doctor that I can’t even afford.
Running from my nightmares where I’m dying in my sleep. Running from the headless horseman and the hooded demons with tiki torches trying to mutilate my body. Running from these niggas that don’t see me as a brother, but a lick that they can hit without remorse, and they’re running to collect my coins and resources because they’ve been forced into running for survival too. Running from the goosebumps on my body when I wake up in the night, look at my phone to check the time and see a new notification, “another nigga died today”.
Running from the realization that I might not ever be free. I might not ever rest from running my entire life. I might not ever see the day my people heal from the trauma we’ve endured, the day we unite in the fight for liberation from the tragic system of white supremacy, and the day that niggas stop being niggas and start being gods. Imagine all that we could be if we didn’t have to run.
All I know is I can’t stop running, or I’ll never have a chance.
Maybe I’ll keep running until I’m dead, then perhaps then I can rest my feet and I’ll find some peace.
Run nigga, run.
Note from the Author:
My name is Jason Williams, author of “The Hue-Man Paradox” and “Dying To Live”, and all of the essays or articles that are available on my publication are written 100% with my human hands typing words onto a keyboard that were generated by my human mind.
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Thank you for reading, one love.
I wish I could run from the knowledge that I have about all the fucked up things these fuckers have done to me and my people that’s what I wish I could run from. I wish I could run from the anger I feel every time I see the micro aggressions and the intentional oppression in my everyday life but just like you I guess I’m gonna run until this shit is over with.
This is what speaking truth to power looks like. It’s so honest, vulnerable and real. I hope you keep writing and sharing with us.