When Your Death Becomes More Important Than Your Birth

Breonna Taylor was born on June 5,1994, a birthday in which this once young, vibrant beautiful “sista” should be celebrating. Instead she lies in a grave remembered more by her death than her life. A female George Floyd of sorts with less universal buzz. This is an unfair state of events that this racist nation can’t find justice for. Her life came to a tragic end when the Louisville Metro Police Department, raided her home while she was asleep with her partner. Why was it necessary to raid that home, on that night? It seems awfully barbaric to storm into someone’s home in the dead of the night, uncertain of who is on the premises. It reminds me of the racist apartheid regime that raided Black homes for sport. And today on her her 28th birthday, it gives me pause as I think about other Black women slain by insensitive, radical, racist police officers. There was Atatiana Jefferson, Ma’Khia Bryant, Michelle Cusseaux, Tanisha Anderson, Korryn Gaines, India Kager and Natasha McKenna to name a few. Black women murder by cops. A United States without a clue. So on Breonna’s birth we hold up her death as a revolutionary day of solidarity of Black Women. 
Black Women Lives Matter, even if we don't get the air play of Black Men. Black Women Lives Matter, slain by cops this government ain't our friend. Black Women Lives Matter, we are not this nation's mule, we ain't working in no field. Black Women Lives Matter, we will fight for injustice and each women's death will be our shield. Happy Birthday “Sista” Breonna. Never forgotten, rest well.