I went to bed early last night. One of the last news briefs I saw was that the jury would be announcing their verdict in the Michael Brown shooting. But I somehow already knew the verdict, and the morning news confirmed what I already knew. Once again, one life has been deemed more important than the other, and yet again, another mother lost her child.
With all of the circumstances surrounding this situation, I can only speak as a mother in this situation. I feel for the mother of Michael Brown who will never see her son again. I feel for the thousands of black mothers who have lost their sons to wrongful violence in the name of justice. When I look at my nephew, I can only help this little gentle giant wont be branded as a threat because he was just a little too big or a little too dark to be deemed safe. How many times can we tell our sons to speak a little softer,  stand a little taller, dress a little better, be a little wiser – when we are constantly reminded that life can take a turn for the worse if another person doesn’t see you the same way.
What is justice, if the ones who receive justice are almost never our sons? Do their lives mean a little less than others? We teach wisdom to our children despite the repeated outcomes. Because black lives really do matter. ALL lives matter.