I Am Tired Of Watching Black People Die

by Hannah Giorgis

''By now you have seen the videos.

By now you have heard the piercing wails of the wife, the girlfriend, the mother, the sister, the husband, the brother, the son, the daughter, the neighbor, the loved one, the loved one, the loved one. The tears stream thick and often; the screams fold into each other.

By now you know the names. Always preceded by a hashtag, a pound sign, a mark denoting connection even as it severs its bearer from brethren, from breath. Always heavy, always hanging, always haunted. A tombstone in tech.

Today you learn the prematurely departed is Philando Castile, the 559th person killed by police this year. Number 558 came two days earlier, a man with a bright and welcoming smile. “Alton Sterling,” you conjure quickly, his name so fresh and full on your tongue it cannot quite make room for the weight of Castile. Names so strong their bearers should have been impenetrable...''

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