Say His Name

Dannette Robinson is a proud black LGBTQ community activist in recovery and leader amongst her peers. Dannette is passionate about creating a message that details her life experience to generate awareness and reach multiple audiences.

When Dannette isn't working hard for the spirit of change, you can find her cuddling with her puppy Monty, enjoying the Colorado mountains, and spending time with friends and family.

Note from PostingBee: I came across this message on a Facebook group and Dannette’s writing and passion touched me in so many ways. This is my way to show her support, respect, and say I stand by her. Please, consider leaving her messages of support in the comments session.

****Trigger ⚠️ Warning: police brutality ****

None of you know me but I just wanted to share my perspective on recent events.

I have toiled over writing this for many hours, contemplating if my thoughts and words could resonate with anyone. Then I decided, I'm writing this for me, because I can no longer carry the burden of emotion. I have to release this toxin from my being. Most of you know and applaud my personal growth as of late, and in order to maintain it, for the sake of my mental health, I intentionally distanced and shielded myself from recent events, and refrained from media. After some time of reflection, I've decided that I can no longer remain silent.

Last night, against my personal wishes, because I wanted to protect my heart, I reluctantly watched the George Floyd video. I probably made it about 10 seconds if not just a smidge longer, before a wave of absolute disgust ravaged my body. I could literally feel bile erupting from my stomach, tears bursting through my eyes, my heart sinking, and pain shoot right through the very center of me. I became physically ill, almost vomiting, sheer panic as I'm grasping for my own air as I witness a horrific murder on camera, while all these officers coldly participated displaying no emotion. I have never been so mortified. That was only 10 seconds. This man, endured 10 MINUTES of agonizing torture, as he slowly had every inch of life crushed out of him. We all watched a man's last moments of life, as these cops actively demoralized him, as he pleaded for mercy, soiling himself, with 3 men pinning him down on hot concrete. All of them securing his body, and that's not including his neck.

As someone who has trained BJJ and MMA, I can tell you that even 1 on 1, having just one knee placed on ANY part of your body is very uncomfortable to say the least, let alone your neck. Your body's natural reaction is to squirm. It's basically INVOLUNTARY. It HURTS. God forbid someone deaden your limb from it or be directly on a nerve. You're going to be writhing in pain. This man had to endure 10 minutes of this suffering, where a trained fighter has the luxury of tapping out and being released after SECONDS. I can't imagine how desperate he felt in those moments. My heart is overwhelmed. It's still difficult to convey how I truly feel. I owed it to George Floyd to see his death. I needed to feel it. I needed to #SayHisName . I watched my brother, my people, die senselessly in broad daylight in a major city. He was murdered for complying with every command by the officers while being restrained in the middle of a pandemic in 2020. Just let that marinate a minute.

Now, virtually everyone I know reading this acknowledges how tragic and repulsive the situation is. This skirting off the curtails of Ahmaud Arbery and Breonna Taylor. I mean folks are just now being arrested. That hasn't even had time to settle yet. We all have been cooped up in isolation, black people dying in record high numbers from COVID-19, stewing in fear, mourning, and uncertainty. Our world suddenly dramatically changed and no one knows what's going on. Emotions are running high. This has been brewing under the surface for quite sometime....the outrage...

For those of you who are not P.O.C., specifically not black, you absolutely will NEVER know what it's like. That in and of itself is a privilege. You couldn't possibly fathom the innate fear and anxiety experienced waking up black every day.

When I was young, I was incredibly naive. I grew up in a white suburban upper middle class lifestyle and neighborhood. I went to the best public schools. I was surrounded by kids and teachers that nurtured my education and I was already naturally gifted and talented. I was in the toughest classes, amongst the intellectually elite. I grew up believing that I was in the utopia that MLK spoke of...that we had reached the mountain top. I believed that white people viewed me as an equal. Nevermind the fact that kids are low key making racist or inappropriate comments. I viewed it as innocent at the time. We were kids. But the behavior never stopped.

As I grew older, I had to constantly defend myself and dodge derogatory questions. "Do you wash your hair?, You're so "articulate", Wow, you listen to rock/country/punk/edm/house (Nevermind the obvious lack of acknowledgement for creating styles of music and the black contributions), touching my hair without asking, being over sexualized from a young age, being fetishized, being the "token", calling me "oreo", referring to me as a white counterpart, and trust me that's a fast way to see my ferocious grizzly bear side. I am BLACK. I didn't choose it, but I own it. I am proud, knowledgeable, educated, and love my heritage. When you say, "I don't see color" it diminishes my identity and culture. I know where I come from. (Thank you Mother, Denise Valentine, for ensuring that I was raised to seek information and think for myself from an early age). I am NOT white, nor do I aspire to be. And those are only a few small, subtle examples. I have many major ones as well.

Many here in Denver are aware of the multiple negative interactions I've had here with police. This doesn't include past events before moving away from Texas and Louisiana. Megan Elizabeth, a beautiful young, blonde haired, blue eyed, sweet, innocent looking college friend of mine was able to experience a small dosage of exposure to the negative end of police confrontations when I was pulled over in my car years ago. I was harassed for 30 minutes for no reason, the whole time being called "sir". You see I have the unfortunate case of being a triple minority. I am a black, butch/masculine/tomboy/stud homosexual woman. And the fact that I had a white girl with me, which may be assumed to be my girlfriend, generally provokes anger from those racist cops.

I'm anxious every time I'm in the car with anyone I ever date that is Caucasian. I get paranoid about the what if, because I have to prepare myself to swallow my pride, if I even want the CHANCE to survive a police encounter. You may wonder why I'm so concerned and scared. Why? Because I get pulled over at a much higher proportional rate than anyone else. Do you know that I personally, have been pulled over well over 10 times since I started driving? If you know me, you would know how ridiculous that is because I drive like a grandma. I don't speed, I follow all traffic rules, and am always aware of my surroundings. 90% of the time, I literally violated no laws.

Which leads me to say that it's verifiably traumatic to be black. Every single day, I have to constantly consider my language, dialect, how I'm perceived as to not be too threatening, how to survive encounters with white supremacists, police, hell the whole damn justice system. It doesn't matter my social or economic status. Look at what happened to the CNN reporter. I ALWAYS have to watch my back. Many don't even consider us as even human. And what some fail to realize is that racism never left. We may not be in literal chains, that is, outside of the prison system (that's a whole other soapbox), but we've been murdered by racist mobs, police, FBI, our houses, churches, and communities bombed and burned. Redlined out of homes, forced into ghettos, projects, and hoods. Disproportionately exposed to poverty and abject punishment AND experiments. Our economies destroyed (Look up Black Wall Street in Oklahoma, watch the movie Rosewood, where an entire town was decimated and a large population of it's residents brutally murdered). All the while, those white people never received any repercussions. All of which in my, my parents, and my grandparents lifetime. My grandmother went to a segregated school. My Dad is the same age as Emmit Till. My Mom the same as Ruby Bridges.

It was not hundreds of years ago. We are not remotely removed from the effects of racism. Has there been improvements, yes, but we have a long way to go and I'm exhausted. I mean really, you don't understand just how tired I really am. The system is broken. It's become redundancy...the murder caught on tape. The outrage. Protests. Pray. Rinse. Repeat. Not to mention white people complain about how we react to anything. White people are so quick to bring up MLK, conveniently forgetting they hated the protests then, imprisoned him several times for it, and eventually assassinated him.

We can't kneel. Can't talk. Can't protest. Can't fight back. Can't carry a gun. Can't drive, walk, talk, while being black. We can't walk in a park and ask you to leash your dog, sleep in our own homes, defend ourselves, jog in our own neighborhoods and lastly comply with the police. Our simple existence is apparently offensive. And you wonder why we're angry, depressed, and volatile.

But you know what? I'm tired of being sick and tired. I think everyone is. And with COVID-19 having locked the country down, the abrupt crash in our economy, everything up in the air, historical unemployment, etc. we have an opportunity to change our America for the better right now. There's no better time. And yes, we need those of you who don't possess the same beliefs as those sickening creatures (Including all the cops who stand by and allow this behavior), to STAND UP!!! We can't do this alone.

#BlackLivesMatter #GeorgeFloyd #SayTheirNames #CallForAction #Unite