Return of the Yogi

Six months and two days ago my city went into quarantine.

Six month and five days ago, cops killed Breonna Taylor.

These two events have triggered a great deal of emotion in me. As we shut our doors and windows, turning inside rather than outside for entertainment and hobbies to pass the time, my thoughts continually turn to Breonna and what her last night was like. It probably felt normal, like most other nights in her life. Maybe it didn’t. I guess we’ll never know.

Every night over the last six months, I have gone to bed with a sense of heaviness. No matter how much joy I’ve found throughout the day, no matter how much I’ve been able to distract myself from the realities of what is happening, I’ve constantly felt that heaviness at the end of the day. I find myself not wanting to go to bed because that means drifting into an unknown, an unknown I’m not sure I’ll wake up from.

The reality, however, is that I will most likely wake up. The reality is that I probably won’t have my house by police using a no-knock warrant. The reality is, I am probably safe.

Over the last six months I’ve really come to understand my advantage in society. While I have and still find myself facing discrimination to some level, I can’t say I know the constant fear that the Black community faces. I am working to unlearn all the prejudices I have been taught and try to use my advantage to life up these suppressed voices. I am working to do what I can to make this world a better place.

This has been my yoga for the past six months and two days. What has your yoga looked like?

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