Her name was Shaka and we were in the fifth grade when I decided to kick her square in the stomach. Even though I had a huge crush on her, Shaka’s pain did not matter to me. It didn’t matter to our laughing peers either. Shaka’s pain was irrelevant as I asserted my prepubescent norms of courting. Television shows like The Wonder Years and The Cosby Show jokingly conveyed to me that it was normal for boys to hit and degrade girls to get their attention. This act was understood

Black and Brown people are not cartoon characters. We do not not run through bullets, breathe while being strangled, or rip our own spines. We also evolve and do not wear the same clothes everyday for years like a tv cartoon series. We are not Bart Simpson’s that are bereft of complex souls and intricate biographies. Yet, the media portrays many of ‘us’ as such. Three weeks ago in Brooklyn, the trauma of death displayed itself violently at a funeral. Six people were shot, two