Early Thoughts on "Fuck Your Breath"

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[Note: This post is an expansion of a series of Tweets I posted this morning and subsequently compiled on Storify. Since most of this site's small readership isn't especially active on Twitter, I'm extending it here.]

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So I awakened this morning to news of yet another lynching of a Black man by cops (and by "cops," as we have learned). It's not enough that I'm dealing with death on a very personal level right now; for people of color in this country, and especially for Black folks, it's impossible to escape it. I've seen the stat floating around to the effect that cops in this country are now executing Black men once every 28 hours; a few days ago, I saw a reference to that time span being reduced (!) to every 21 hours. More, there has apparently been exactly one — one! — day thus far in 2015 that not included a Black person dead at the hands of police. I haven't found the sources for any of these (right now, who has time to look?), but it's indicative of the situation that I find it not in the least difficult to believe.


Below is an expansion of what was my initial reaction to that moment when the hood slips, and everyone sees and hears that the honest response to "I can't breathe" is "Fuck your breath."

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"Fuck your breath."

Said by a white cop to a dying Black man who the cops were killing right then.

The shooter? A 73-year-old white insurance executive-become-"reserve deputy."

[Also, as we've since come to learn, a huge donor of money and flashy paramilitary "toys" to the police department, the former campaign manager of the sheriff during his last run for office, and one of some 130 such "reserve deputies."]

What the fuck does Tulsa need with a "reserve deputy," anyway?