I Was Complacent in My Whiteness, Until I Couldn’t Breathe
I felt like I was about to die…
The crowd was dispersing and fleeing. We were trapped. We were all cramming together, trying to get to the gate that was holding us in place. Tear gas was everywhere. I kept hearing bangs behind me, knowing that more was being deployed. People were scrambling. I could feel my eyes and face burning. I tried rinsing off the chemicals the best I could and rinsing those around me with the spray bottle I had. Amazing humans were putting themselves at risk by helping to hoist people up and over this 10 foot fence that stood in our way. And that’s when my chest started to tighten. I was 4–5 people back. I heard more bangs behind me. More tear gas. Less air. Certain I was dying, I made eye contact with a man and cried out desperately:
“I can’t breathe…”
Unwittingly, the words of Eric Garner and George Floyd had echoed out of my mouth. For a moment, I was connected to these men in their final moments.
The overwhelmingly crucial difference is, of course, that I’m still here. That I’m able to write these words.
That I was eventually able to escape and to continue to breathe.
