We pause once again, this time to honor the lives of Daunte Wright and Miles Jackson, two young Black men whose lives faced too many unnecessary risks. We grieve the trauma endured by witnesses, including Daunte’s mother, who spoke to him seconds before his death.  

We pause to acknowledge the haunting familiarity of location and context, a national nightmare from which we feel powerless to awaken. We condemn the ongoing injustice racism has inundated our national culture with. 

We pause to honor the emotional, physical, and spiritual exhaustion of so many kinds of people, crying out to be seen as fully human; an asset to our stunning diversity, rather than a hindrance to sameness. We acknowledge the endless flood of violence and everyday discrimination Black people face in the United States, regardless of class or ability. 

We pause to give space to Black minds and bodies, who cannot say no to the ongoing demands of community and workplace, even as the mortal safety of Black life is challenged yet again, even as we are afraid to send our children and ourselves into this world. We do not ask. 

We pause. Again. Because to not pause would be to give in to a state of normalcy that does not reflect reality for so many of us. . 

Will you pause with us? 

Will you offer space to those who will not ask for it at this time? 

Will you demand the rest you so desperately deserve or support rest in those you know who are affected? 

Will you prioritize healing, both for others and yourself, even as we brace for inevitable future trauma?

Our commitment in the fight against anti-Black racism includes a commitment to community healing and well-being. As we continue to challenge institutions and systems that we are a part of, and do so with urgency, we do not lose sight of the very real human cost of this struggle, and the healing we all deserve in this nation. 

We will pause, we will make space, we will take rest, and we will continue the fight.