The hill we climb is no hill, sistah. It is a plateau littered with Black bodies that are the detritus of white supremacy, jim crow, segregation, and police brutality. Every four years, the casualties climb as politicians come around peddling hope that has become an anesthesia to numb us to the decades of promise that remain unfulfilled, as they ask once again for our votes, with every intention of discarding us after the inauguration.

There is no hill, but rather a flat stretch of land with Black people storming the forts of white privilege and being fired upon by white…

Audra Russell

Writer. Blogger. Native Jersey girl in a Maryland world. Come visit me at

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