When I first heard the news of George Zimmerman’s acquittal, I was at a wedding. It was surreal to be surrounded by celebration and simultaneously feeling as if I had been slapped in the face, hard.

I was stunned. I will admit that I had allowed myself to believe that rational thinking would win out in this case. I did not even bother to watch the trial. I naively believed that the murderer would be held accountable for his crime. I should have known better.

Being black in America means never really feeling safe. It means always having to read members of the dominant culture (white) to see if they mean you harm. It means making yourself as small and non threatening as possible or risking unwarranted harassment. It means forever striving to prove that you are just as good as, and that you belong while constantly being told that you aren’t and you don’t. Whether being stared at as you walk into a nice restaurant, followed in a department store or shot down in your own neighborhood while walking home from the store. It is, in a word, exhausting.

In the days following the verdict, I fell into a sort of depression. At times crying uncontrollably, at times dissociated, at times rageful. Often I daydreamed about exactly how I would kill George Zimmerman if I ever got the chance.

I could feel the pain and anger solidifying into a ball of hatred. It was cold and heavy in my chest. I wanted to destroy something. I wanted to lash out and inflict upon someone else the pain that I was feeling. Usually George Zimmerman was the target of my vengeful imaginings, but in the back of my mind I knew it was bigger than him.

As I continued to meditate on and grapple with the hardening in my heart, I remembered what my father had said to me. That my generation needed to see this. This moment in history where america revealed itself. I began to really feel my anger and let it flow through me. I saw it as a flame in my belly, chest and head. I breathed it and it did not destroy me. I heard a voice asking what was I going to do with it? I decided, rather than let my anger turn me bitter, I would unleash it.

Anger is a very useful e(motion). It signifies that a boundary has been violated. It’s purpose is to rally the organism to push back and defend its boundary.

The court sent us a very clear message: it is okay to kill black boys. We will not condemn it. Your children’s lives don’t matter to us.

Speaking as a black mother, this is unacceptable. Enough is enough. Like it or not, we are here! Our voices do matter!! Our children’s lives will be defended!! #Blacklivesmatter