Do All Black Lives Matter?

On BART yesterday, 4 Black women, and one Black man got on the train to Concord at Powell St in S.F. with bags of clothing they ripped off from the Westfield Mall. They slammed the clothing into the poles on the train to smash off the alarm devices retailers put on to avoid theft. Fragments of the devices went everywhere, all over other passengers, including me and my 14 year old daughter.

Besides being thieves, they terrorized everyone on the train, shouting, “Wat de fuck use lookin at bitch!” at anyone who dared glance at them.

My daughter said to me, “Do those Black lives matter?”

I felt like saying, “No.” Black, White, whatever, when people don’t give a shit about anyone but themselves, why should we value them in society?

I said, “Look around the train.” I pointed out a Black mom with her three kids equally disgusted with the thieves. “It ain’t about Black, or race at all,” I told her. “These kids are thieves. And all the excuses in the world, or Jesus forgiving them their crimes down the line” (they were all wearing crosses), “does not justify their indifference to continually hurt their own culture, and the human race, by CHOOSING to be an ugly, destructive force, instead of contributing to the good of us all.”

And I believe it to my core, that we need to respect each other, care for each other as much as ourselves for humanity to thrive. But still, this morning, yesterday on BART lingers. And I am so deeply sad today.

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