By Kai M. Green
I remember the night Troy Davis was lynched. I remember the anxiety I felt — the sadness and the worry. And then I remember thinking that I had no right to feel so much. I imagined what Davis and his family must have felt and I wanted to respect and honor that.
Just before the lynching, I went for a jog around my neighborhood in South Los Angeles. I remember running, sprinting, trying to rid myself of all that “so much” that I felt.
I was running towards a freedom of my mind, spirit and body. But my stride was halted when a police car crept up beside me.