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Quote by Jill Nelson

“When I reached this policeman in the street, he hit me over the head with his club...I wanted to get protection, but instead the cops hit me...I was afraid to run, because I knew if I did they would hit me again. Harry Reed's affidavit is dated August 22, 1900. And little has changed in a century.”

Quote by Jill Nelson

Work

Police Brutality: An Anthology

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Jill Nelson

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“Of course innocent mistakes occur, but the accumulated insults and indignations caused by racial presumptions are destructive in ways that are hard to measure. Constantly being suspected, accused, watched, doubted, distrusted, presumed guilty, and even feared is a burden borne by people of color that can't be understood or confronted without a deeper conversation about our history of racial injustice.”

“I’m not sure Black people can be happy in this world. There’s just too much of a backstory of sadness that’s always clawing at their heels. And no matter how hard you try to outrun it, life always comes through with those reminders letting you know that, more than anything, you’re just a part of an exploited people and a denied destiny and all you can do is hate your past and, by proxy, hate yourself”

“Standing on a street corner in Manhattan two days after Diallo's murder, having just come from a meeting of concerned citizens to plan an organized response, I was so filled with frustration and sorrow that I turned to the woman beside me waiting for the light to change and asked 'What do you think about the cops shooting that man forty-one-times?' She looked startled, confused--could she not feel the palpable rage, pain, and fear that pulsed through the black veins of this city and other cities across the nation? 'I don't know. I have to wait until all the facts are in. I'm sure they had a reason,' she finally responded. Perhaps she saw the disgust and disappointment on my face. Stepping off the curb as the light turned green, she added, 'I mean, he must have done something.”

“Eyes watching through filtered screens seeing every lie, reading every made-up word like a black hoodie counts as a mask like some shit I do with my fingers counts as gang signs like a few fights counts as uncontrollable rage like failing three classes counts as being dumb as fuck like everything that I am, that I've ever been counts as being guilty”

“Saying down with the blacks but uplift the white race Raising the banner to the sun in haste Mobbed deep, hoods and capes Sun-dried and bloodstained Saying down with the blacks but uplift the white race Unjustly tried an indelible conviction the usual result of five shades of darker skin Justice unjust, black robes and pale face Didn't have a chance, they called us apes I wish I would have known the false smiles Evil intentions fulfilling their taste Why me? Why us? Justice unjust, black robes and pale faces?”

“Back then and even now, my black friends and family members often tell me they don't consider me white. I don't think that's what they really mean. What they mean is that they feel safe with me. They mean they don't fear the noose in my presence. Their face being pressed to the concrete. My knee being pressed against their neck. My weight bearing down. When they say they don't consider me white, what they mean is that I see them. That I'm with them. That I won't stand for the little white genocides they're subjected to one podium speech at a time.”

“Cars slowed down as they passed. White drivers with white passengers. White parents with white children, watching. Not seeing, I imagine, three innocent black boys being harassed by racist police officers. Seeing three black criminals being brought to justice. Young minds being shaped into wrong thinking. Generational ignorance being reinforced through misconstrued observation.”