In The Event Of My Untimely Demise
To Whom It May Concern,
Being of sound mind and body, in case of my extrajudicial murder at the hands of state sanctioned authorities, I direct and declare the following:
1. HELL YES, I resisted.
My entire life has been one continuous act of resistance. This has become more intentional each year I’ve survived, from being visibly Black in spaces never meant for me, to using my gifts to actively advance the cause of marginalized people. Know that as I died, as life was snuffed from my body, I did not go quietly; I went cursing, spitting epithets, and resisting institutions that systematically have targeted Black people for generations.
2. I did not hang myself.
I don’t care what the autopsy reports show or what the “authorities” claim. In a country that has used lynching as a means of intimidation by murder for centuries, Black men do NOT hang themselves. Implying a Black man committed suicide by hanging is akin to saying the grandchild of a Holocaust survivor killed themselves by gas chamber.
3. I don’t care what you burn to get justice.
If my killers are not arrested and charged to the fullest extent of the law, burn it all. As a writer I have tried to use words to motivate, cajole, persuade, and coax people to action against injustice. The more I typed the bigger a target I put on my chest, so this is no surprise. Where words failed, may fire prove more convincing.
4. Don’t settle for piecemeal change.
Don’t stop after they convict my killers. Insist on systemic change. Don’t just change laws, change lawmakers, reinvent systems, reimagine communities. I may be dead but I’ll be watching you with the Ancestors, and if you settle for the least amount of change allowed, I swear to all the gods I will haunt you.
5. They’re going to dig up some shit on me.
Once the news of my murder goes public, every effort will be made to besmirch my name. Some of it will be true, some of it will be lies, none of it will matter. Don’t let them play the perfect victim card; I will settle my accounts for the good and evil I did in life did after I transform; that doesn’t mean I didn’t deserve justice while I was alive.
6. Don’t make a hero out of me.
Seriously, no one dies to become a martyr. Tell my stories, ALL of them, good and bad and in-between but don’t make me into some angel posthumously. The people who know me don’t need to be convinced of my humanity, and the people who don’t couldn’t care less.
7. Use a good mug shot.
As the deceased I’ll have zero control over my image, so for the love of god, make sure the media uses a photo that captures my roguish charm. Something recent, playful, preferably 3/4 view, ideally smiling. Don’t let my death be all about my pain; celebrate my joys as well.
8. If I die before my Mom, please take care of her.
No parent should outlive their child, yet this is all too common for Black parents. Every day a child leaves the house, Black parents have to worry if they’re coming home. My Mom is 92 and tough as nails, but right now I’m her primary care giver. If I’m murdered, she is ALL OF YOUR MOMS. Please, watch after her.
9. Finish my work.
I have a lot of irons in the fire so if I’m extrajudicially killed, make sure my work is complete. Publish my stories, distill my beverages, play my music, get ALL my shit out there in the world. It won’t do me any good but maybe someone who doesn’t know what they can’t do will see how crazy I was, and at least they’ll TRY.
10. Take care of Bowie.
I don’t have kids and I’m guessing someone will adopt and care for my plants. Find Bowie a good home. He’s the best guy and I know he’s already got two paws in the other world, but until he can join me, make him comfortable. He’s had a rough way and deserves to be loved.
