You ain’t shit.
That’s the lesson I took from this case.
You ain’t shit.
These words are deep because these are words I’ve heard my whole life: I heard from adults in my childhood that I needed to be “about something” other than all that banging and clanging and music I play all the time. As I got older, I heard I wasn’t as good as so-and-so is at music. All the “you ain’t shit” stories I got — Jesus, it’s a wonder I made it.
Rich asks, “Wait, you’re not surprised, are you?” I’m not surprised at all, but that doesn’t mean it stings any less.
I should be angry, right? I remember when the Sean Bell verdict came out and I just knew, “Oh, God, New York is gonna go up in flames.” And yet no one was fuming. It was like, “[Shrug] … No surprises here. That’s life.”
Rich asks again, “Are you surprised … that you ain’t shit?”
It hurts to hear it, and I say, “I’m not surprised, but who wants to be reminded?” What fat person wants to hear that they aren’t pleasing to the eye? Or what addict wants to hear they are a constant F-up? Who wants to be reminded that — shrug — that’s just the way it is? -Questlove: Trayvon Martin and I Ain’t Shit
I would recommend Questlove’s essay in New York Magazine as a must-read, but it isn’t enough to simply read it. People need to read it and learn from it.