It Has To Stop

The execution of George Floyd started a movement to stop the extrajudicial killing of black men and women in America.

I say started because the feeling sparked by his murder was the culmination of anger about far too many executions of black people just going about their business. The names are far too many. The years, no centuries, are too many.

Three months later a black father is shot repeatedly in front of his children by white cops. Jake Blake is not dead, but the violence against him is unspeakable. The trauma his children suffered is unimaginable.

Why does this keep happening, even while there are still protests about the execution of George Floyd? It seems that more conversation and examination of attitudes, bias, and prejudice has gone on here in the UK than in the States.

The National Guard is sent in. Again. This accomplishes nothing except more division, more prejudice, more injury.

Trump says the law must prevail. That it is illegal to execute black men on the street seems to pass him by. That he has privilege seems not to occur to him. He does not engage in dialogue or express any sorrow that fifty two years after the assassination of D. Martin Luther King Jr., we are still trampling on black people as less than white people.

He is a self -confessed white supremacist. He was galvanized into action because America dared to vote in a black President. The current POTUS has no concern for race relations whatsoever.

In Santa Clarita, CA, black youths have had police guns pointed at them for playing in the street. My friend posted photos to Instagram. Why should young teenagers face guns for simply using skateboards? They are traumatized.

What will it take to stop the violence and executions, the trauma, the fear, the ignorance? Why are white cops so violent that it is so normal?

I am crying. I can’t bear it. My white privilege makes me want to vomit. Change will certainly not come while Trump is around. I so hope that America will oust him in November. All I can do is pray.



The whole thing with the poor young woman has caused me to reflect. I understand that she feels she loves him, the bloke who punched her face. It will take her a while to realise that love has no forms of violence or attempts at violence.

I had to end my marriage because there was violence towards me. He never punched but threw me to the floor a couple of times and would hold me down, and other things that left no marks.

It took a long time to feel life was OK without him. I had children to look after so my time was full. Now I can’t bear his company.

Violence is never OK. Even attempted violence or words of violence.

Some plants arrived today. I am creating a new flower bed. It will mostly in shade so lots of silver and variegated foliage.

I enjoyed strawberries on my breakfast and the tomatoes are getting redder. It feels good.



So I am really malfunctioning because of the wind chimes next door. I say next door, they are within arm’s reach over the fence. My head is in a fog, as well as in a constant headache, my left limbs hurt. I am bad tempered because of the area in my brain that is affected.

My laptop doesn’t work, I am writing this on my phone. I am crying out to be understood but no one does. They judge me and are unkind to me. But if they were in my situation they would want understanding and kindness.

What really upsets me is that the people next door and their letting agency do this to me because of the malicious lies told by Michael Ebsworth flatmate or whatever she is. She is violent towards him and speaks so badly of him. And his father will have nothing to do with him because of her.

I need my daughter so badly. I am so scared that I’m going to have a seizure. The wearing down of my nervous system is starting to make me miss a moment every so often.

I had thought I had someone to love when Mike came here. And he told me he loves the bits of me that are damaged by my disease. I can’t express how much I have longed to hear that. To be loved for everything I’ve been through. Not despite it. But he ran ranway atthefirst sign of honesty because his whole life isa lie. He is stunted at age eleven when his mother died and has made an enemy of all the people who have loved him. He’s an alcoholic and I don’t need that.