Writing You're Doing It Wrong

A Letter To My Son

© Jendella

I’ve been finding it really hard to process the recent murders of black men at the hards of US law enforcement. I was feeling overwhelmed, hopeless, scared, and more… Eventually I wrote a letter to my son:

“What is there to be said? I can only feel anger for so long until it ferments into the cold reality of endless despair. In the echo chambers of our social media spheres we are all shouting, all screaming, all crying the same thing. The hopelessness of such a familiar grief suffocates me, but outside of the safe spaces created by our collective mourning the world is evil and unfeeling.”

Read the rest of the letter here.

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