Protesting because Black Lives Matter

Image by Bikurgurl

Black Lives Matter

All lives can’t matter until Black Lives Matter

I am distraught, but what I can do, right now, is stand with the maligned protesters – peacefully protesting inequities in our country, the world.

Inequities of the treatment of our brothers and sisters of color, indigenous peoples, black people.

The murder of George Floyd in the void of life’s busy-ness, in the midst of a quarantine, the senseless murder of yet another black man. I’m furious. I feel helpless to affect change.

Why is this still happening?

George Floyd could have been my child, my husband, my brother, my father, my friend….he could still be alive. Why did he die? Is the $20 bill, counterfeit or not, worth a life?

Of course not. I cannot deem what price would be appropriate for the brutal asphyxiation, “mechanical asphyxia.”

There is no price on life.

Image by Bikurgurl

The awesome infographic on the back of our sign is by Tony Ruth of @lunchbreak on Twitter:


*Credit: created by @lunchbreath based on Shel Silverstein’s The Giving Tree for John Maeda‘s 2019 Design In Tech Report – found here

We printed these graphics onto 8.5×11 inch paper and put them in page protectors, affixing them to the back of our Black Lives Matter sign we took protesting.

Image by Bikurgurl

My chest still gets tight when I dive deep into these issues. I am so ashamed. I am so privileged. I want to change. I want the world to be an equitable place for everyone. If it isn’t an equitable place for everyone, it’s not an equitable place for anyone.

Why are we still not equitable in 2020? Check out my Twitter feed for my myriad of original sources I support and am educating myself on.

I’ve been told for so many years my anger towards bias is unjustified. I’ve been told I’m wrong to want to buck the system, to question authority, to reside on the outside of the ‘known norm’. My own childhood, whiteness in a ‘white’ town once we relocated from Detroit…and even then, we lived in the suburbs….it’s my history.

So what’s wrong with me?

Nothing. Challenging the system, systemic racism, bigotry, environmental issues, animal rights issues….men….this is the movement I’ve wanted to be a part of for a very long time.

Even writing this post, my chest is tight. I know standing up, standing for, equity will result in broken relationships. This isn’t my first rodeo – or foray – into questioning authority and going against the grain.

The difference now, I see, is that there has always been people in this fight – I was just too blind to see the opportunities around me. I was too busy to “do” anything. I’m not even close to being the most negatively affected by The System.

I don’t know what the future holds, but being silently angry and feeling like I can’t do anything but bitch about it – those days are over. Educating myself, my family, on how we can be the change…it’s a process.

It starts with small actions, like peacefully protesting, and making our collective voices heard.

This is our moment. This is the time. Wake up white people – be part of the change you wish to see in the world.


I took these images when we attended our first protests in the Seattle area this year after the horrific murder of George Floyd {Rest In Power, George Perry Floyd Jr. (October 14, 1973 – May 25, 2020) } , June 2020

I am actively finishing my unfinished drafts as I continue to educate myself and understand how to better translate my thoughts, ideas, and expressions.

Thank you for your readership and patience. Drop a comment below to engage in respectful dialogue.

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