Letter To … Ma’khia

Dear Ma’Khia Bryant,

I am grieving. It is sickening that the hate that permeates our society is so pervasive that a child must mourn the loss of another child. I, as a 19-year-old, should be studying for my finals, but I simply cannot focus. I am so distraught that today, the same day I sat down to prepare my final paper on historical systemic injustice, I had to witness it. Not only in the Derrick Chauvin trial but in the death of Ma’khia Bryant. It is clear that we are far from justice for all in this country. I am a Black girl who is lucky to be alive. Sadly, a 16-year-old Black girl was not afforded the same luxury. My breath is a privilege. As a college student, my biggest worry should be my grade on my next public policy assignment. I, unfortunately, do not have the privilege to compartmentalize my life experiences. Tonight, “keep pushing forward”, will simply not do.

On April 20th, Ma’khia Bryant called the police because a group was fighting outside her home. Fearing assault, she had a knife in hand, and police shot and murdered her almost instantly after arriving to the scene. My words fail me when I think about the inhumanity of the situation 

--- the growing number of Black girls killed at the hands of the police. Black girls are denied the opportunity to experience a childhood. As young people, we are often told, enjoy these years, they will be the best times of your life, but I often think, how? America has told me that my body does not matter. My story will go untold. No one will fight for my life. And our country will not provide me with justice.

Over the summer of 2020, I interviewed 50 Black girls across the United States after the murder of Breonna Taylor, through a summer fellowship. I wanted to understand Black girls’ thoughts on justice, inequality, and liberation. These girls were aged 16 through 25, with most participants falling into the 17 to 21 age range. I hoped at least one of my interviewees could describe a feeling of safety and security in this country. I wanted my doubts about America to be wrong, but alas, freedom and liberation in this country, for Black girls? It is almost an oxymoron. The young girls I interviewed, just like Ma’khia Bryant, were robbed of their youth, because the burden of being a Black girl in this country is so overbearing that it does not afford us the luxury of feeling freedom. A year ago, my interviewees sat in their rooms, processing Breonna Taylor’s unjust death, and today they once again sit in their rooms, trying to comprehend another unjust death, of someone younger than themselves, at the hands of the police. 

To the little Black girl right now, who is shaking in the deepest parts of her soul, who feels the four bullets in Ma’khia’s chest, sinking into her own, I embrace you with my words. I hope our shared experience provides you comfort. I hope you know we share in our tears and we are bound together in loss and in our privilege of life. To tell you it is going to be okay, to tell you that you will receive justice, to tell you that a mob will mobilize in your name, those would simply be hollow words.

While we are more than our suffering, and we are comprised of a beauty, an intelligence, an elegance, a grace, and a joy beyond measure, sometimes it does not feel like the most relevant part of our reality. Sometimes all we feel is numb. If I could, I would grab your hand and hold it tight, because that is all I could do to make the pain go away. In a brighter day, I will talk about what I love about being a Black girl and how I will continue to fight for you. But today, all I can do is grieve. Is this normal when you are only 19? You will not be forgotten. We will keep fighting for you, Ma’khia.

Love,

Gabrielle Battle

Author: Gabrielle Battle

Addressee: Ma’Khia Bryant