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No one should have to consider that they could be a victim of police brutality. Even worse, no one should have to write a living will to reclaim their identity and express how they want to be remembered. As a Black person, I am forced to accept the reality that I could be next. I find that painful, I cannot find the words to articulate how much it hurts. I have spent my life trying to defy statistics, and I, like many People of Color, have worked tirelessly to be the "presentable minority" (by Euro-American standards). However, with the deaths of individuals like Sandra Bland and Trayvon Martin, I have to wonder: "Does it even matter?"In 21 years I have graduated college with a Bachelor's of Science in Psychology, and a minor in biology. I finished my undergraduate degree in three years, and I completed with a grade point average above 3.0. I now attend Columbia University where I am working towards my Masters of Science in Social Work, because it is my calling to work to make the world a better place (I know it's possible). Although, when I see the criminalization of people who are Black, like me, I have to ask: "Does it even matter?"I am somber as I write this, my life may very well be defined by my mistakes and demonization of people of color. The light I've tried to cultivate out of the darkness of my despair, may be blown out. The positivity of my future could be left lay still and lifeless, within the lines of a chalk drawing surrounded by yellow tape. I do not want to have my legacy live through hashtags and slogans. I want the world to #SayHerName so I can hear it. I want to live to see #BlackLivesMatter. I do not want to be remembered for brutality, I want to be renowned for peace. I dread the day people could ask: "Did she kill herself? Was she mentally stable? Her medical history said she suffered from depression and that she was suicidal. Who's to say the cops were guilty? Perhaps she was a danger to herself and those around her. Was she a threat? Did she obey authority? Honestly speaking, was she hopeless, or did her life matter?". I do not want this to be the narrative my mother to hear as she mourns who I used to be.I remember the first week of Social Work school; at orientation a recording was played. It was an interview between a radio show host, and two black children from Chicago. They were being interviewed for a letter they wrote addressed to the media, regarding how their communities were demonized by people who did not even live there. These boys took pen to paper, and they wrote about their neighborhood, they used their voices to highlight the magnificence of their world. I remember crying; I was so proud of them. They were barely teenagers at the time of the recording, and already they were activists. Still, my heart bled out my eyes, even now it still bleeds out. Children should not have to justify their existence, but they do. My people should not have to be guilty until proven innocent, but we are. Our value should not be determined by perfection and excellence, but it is. Black people should not have to remind the world that we matter through hashtags and slogans, but you have chosen not to hear us.I do not know how else to speak to the world; this letter may very well be unread and misunderstood by those who are willfully blind. Though, to those who want to hear these words take this with you: "The life of a Human Being is precious. We are Complex, Dynamic, and Complicated. We are Flawed, we are Growing, we are Learning. Our lives matter." In the case that I am a victim of police brutality, remember me in my entirety. As a baby fresh out the womb, with no sense of self. As a toddler, barely knowledgeable of how to walk. As an adolescent, unwilling to school and considered "dumb" by the system. As a teenager, completely over the world and desperate for something new. As a young adult, just surviving rape and wanting so badly to be validated. As a first generation college girl, experimenting and experiencing life as it presented itself. As a graduate, someone who could look back at their mistakes and say "Mom, I did it."If I am ever a victim of police brutality, I ask for my family to be the Peace Makers I could not be. Friends, be the voice that was taken away from me. World, be the change that you so desperately deserve. Because as of now, I am alive. I am watching life unfold before my very eyes, and it is so beautiful. Yet, at any moment that life could be taken away from me; in this country people who belong to marginalized groups know that all too well. So if my life is ever taken, as a result of war against those who defy what our society considers valuable… I ask you World, work to ensure that you can rest in peace.Love,Monisha A. Holmes#BlackLivesMatter
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