“They had all this foreign shit. They didn’t have shit on my brother, man.”
Doughboy

When I was little I used to cry. I was a sensitive child. I can think of certain parts of movies that would leave me crying everytime they came up. Hell I cried during G.I. Joe the Movie cause I thought Serpentor had killed Duke. As time moved on I didn’t cry as much. In most recent years it took some moment involving a father and son and my personal anguish on the subject was all that could bring it up. Before my aunt (my godmother) died me and a friend of mine had to carry her up the stairs of the house I grew up in. At her funeral I didn’t even cry until my cousin stopped me outside of her funeral and held me. I didn’t think I would cry at all that day, but something about him trying to comfort me made it all come out. I’ve been watching the news and seeing people cry over a loved one who has died or been killed and it kind of puzzles me. I don’t question their loss…I just wonder why it’s not as easy for me anymore. I can’t really think up the number of people I know who have died. It’s like trying to think of all the girls I ever dated, the more I think the more names I come up with. Honestly, I tend to think that both situations are a little sad. Pouring out beer is easy all I have to do is tilt my wrist and watch as it splash and spread across the concrete. The funny thing is I don’t even see crying in these cases as something a man shouldn’t do. I just wonder why it’s so hard for me. A friend of mine was in Africa and at a funeral some of the younger men and women started shooting into the air. An elder asked why they would do this and they responded, “We have no more tears.” I wonder if this is the case for me? Have I known so many people that died that I expect my friends to be killed? I’m not even sure if I feel numb…I can’t even describe it anymore. It’s like hearing gunshots. I don’t get nervous or worry, now I guess the caliber of the weapon judge if shots are being wasted. When I turned 26 I enjoyed myself. I said that I had made it that I hadn’t been killed and I wasn’t a statistic. Now it seems that more black men are being killed up until they’re 28…I guess I have to make it a few more months. Eric “Bomani” Knight didn’t make it. He had just turned 26 at the end of 2005 and this weekend he was shot and killed on N. Smallwood. Now he’s gone. I haven’t seen anything on the news about him. I saw alot of things on other people, missing people the guy who was killed at the movies last week. It seems like the rest of the city isn’t shedding tears for him either. I can feel the burn behind my eyes. It’s a sign that tears would like to well up around them and find their way down my cheeks. I haven’t tried to fight them, they just won’t come. I keep thinking that seeing him in May was the last time I’d see him alive. The conversation we had is the last one we’ll have. I remember thinking he was doing good. I remember laughing to myself at some of the questions he asked the Sangoma. I remember telling Swad about it all and explaining to Nana why I thought it was funny. I keep thinking back to things about him hoping that maybe something will trigger and I’ll be reminded that I do have emotions and that I will miss my friend. I don’t have to lie when I say he was a good person…I don’t think badly about myself cause I haven’t shed a tear for him. I just wonder if I’ll be able to cry.