My youngest son stood behind me yesterday as I struggled to comprehend what #AltonSterling did to deserve to die. When I told him that he was just selling music, the look on his face was one of such sweet surprise and sadness that my heart broke again.
I can't explain why we are targets. I can't explain why Alton was murdered. I can't explain what recourse we have to ensure that this doesn't happen, because there isn't one.
I can't even explain why I hug his sisters and brother so tightly when they leave our house. I can't explain that on any given day, they can be stopped and assaulted or murdered for something that wouldn't even warrant a second glance in most other cultures.
I can't explain that. I can't explain that in 2016, 122 black men have been killed by police. That is an average of 17 beautiful minds per month. That is .7 people per day. I can't explain that.
All that I know is that I know plenty of folks who sell their music in parking lots every day. I know tons of musicians who are out the trunk artists. And I know that no one deserves to die for that.
My heart is broken again. And I can't really explain why.
Rest in power, Alton.
Your life mattered.