For Sandra

I know the feeling 

The primal urge

The need to control someone I saw as smaller than me.

Lesser.


I know the feeling because I have pinned my toddler to the floor in desperation. 

The weight of my legs on his tiny limbs. 

Echoing his screams. 

Because he needed to put on a diaper. He needed to do what I said. 


A trick I learned from my own mother

As I can still remember the weight of her legs. Because I needed to brush my teeth. 


But Teddy has never been lesser

Not smaller

Just in different stages of life. 

Because children are whole people. 

Individuals with needs and emotions. 

And Teddy is important. 

To me

To God. 


I wanted to control him because I was tired. 

Tired of cleaning up pee from the carpet

and chasing, and redirecting, and avoiding chaos. 

But he was tired too.

And curious.

And afraid.

He didn't understand my frustration.

All he knew was his mother being cruel.


I saw a video of a policeman ordering a Black woman to get out of her car. 

I saw panic build within him as he was met with resistance.

She was tired.

Angry.

Wanted to stay in her space.

Wanted understanding.


But all he could hear was a toddler screaming in defiance. 

So he pinned her to the ground

'She wasn’t listening!'

And screamed at her. 

'I’m in control! 

I'm in charge!'

He knew best because he wore a badge 

And that’s just the way it was going to be. (the way it's always been)

No time for listening. 

Reasoning. 

Patience. 

Compassion. 

Just primal instinct. 

Authority.

The need to control this person. 

Sandra.

Whom he saw as lesser. 


I wanted to tell him he made a mistake. 

That this woman was not his child

not a toddler running around naked at bedtime. 


She had four sisters

and a mind

and a life.

A new job waiting for her at the University. 


Didn’t he see her at all?

Sandra.

Capable. Young. Intelligent. Beautiful. 

Just a little tired. 

And afraid.

And angry.


When he first panicked, I saw myself panicking

heard myself scream at my son

and saw his face crumple into tears. 

I knew the feeling—the urge to control. 

And I hated myself for having a piece of that same monster inside of me. 


Then Sandra was found in a holding cell

with plastic around her neck.

A whole person

another one

gone.


America has been such a cruel mother

to her Black children









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