Why #HandsUp #DontShoot is the Battle Cry of a Movement

#HandsUp #DontShoot never read as a cry of surrender to me. It is mocking, defiant. I stand here and dare you to shoot holes in your assertion that I am monstrous. It forces the militarized arm of a borderline police state to reveal itself as such. When you see people planted on the concrete, hands peacefully splayed on either side of their head, the police look far more threatening than the protesters.

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We ride grief; we do not conquer it

Grief will lull you into believing it has passed and then rush in unexpectedly.

 We ride grief in waves; we do not conquer it. It is wide and wild and ebbing, coming back to drench you when you think you have wiped your face dry of tears. If you know someone who is riding grief and you ask, “How are you?” They may just be answering for that day. Because tomorrow might just be all wet and the day after that, the sun again rises. Just stand in the water with them and wade. That is how we live.

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