My skin color is not a crime

We are exhausted, worn out, worn out.

We were perceived as thieves, pickpockets and wrongdoers because of our color.

The police are supposed to be a source of security. They are supposed to help me, to save me.

But why do I want to run away?

Why do I feel the urge to run when I see them appear?

Peacekeepers who sow fear in our hearts like gardeners.

When I see one of our own unjustly seized, even bruised, my body stiffens. George Floyd,

Brenna Taylor, Rodney King, a portion of the victims of police brutality. They want to put it behind them, to say it's in the past. But many lives are taken, many lives are shattered because of this inequality.

I always thought this kind of situation would never happen near my home, but I was wrong. In 2021, in Repentigny, in my neighborhood, by police officers,

Jean René Junior Olivier was killed.

My melanin is not a reason to stop me and ask where I'm going or why I'm out so late.

One wrong move on my part in front of them could cost me my life.

People don't know the feeling of having their heart clench when the police walk past us.

Yet, I did nothing wrong.

I feel guilty even though I am innocent.

Having dreadlocks is equated with being a thug. Being a Black woman is seen as a symbol of aggression. These stereotypes suffocate us. We fought for our rights, for equality, for freedom. This injustice is a slap in the face after all our efforts over the years.

Their badges, their guns, their power ruin everything.

Certainly we have progressed, but there is still a long way to go.

Put your revolvers on the ground.

My skin color is not a crime. Restrain your rudeness for just a moment and you'll see that we want

Only respect. Once again, we are exhausted, worn out, worn out.