I Think We Have Come to the End

Appropriately, the sentencing of former BART police officer Johannes Mehserle followed quickly on the heels of the general election so that West Oaklanders could be bitch slapped twice by a system that does not care about them.
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Forty-four percent of the households in my neighborhood do not have access to a car. There is no decent public transportation; neither do taxis cruise the streets picking up fares. With only 250 registered voters in my precinct, the city will not even open a polling place. The ballot marking procedure changes in every election so that the method learned in one election means nothing to subsequent elections and ballots are easily invalidated in the rare instances when they are cast.
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We do not have a full service grocery store. West Oaklanders buy most of their food at mom-and-pop corner stores and gas stations, meaning they pay the highest possible price for household staples such as milk and eggs. That is like going to the emergency room to get a Kleenex. There is no fresh produce in a gas station. Dining out often means buying fatty, high sodium food from a taco truck.
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We are red lined for gas—paying as much as 50% more for a gallon of gas than drivers in better neighborhoods. Our stores are big box stores. Our dogs are pit bulls. Our rides are bicycles. Our restaurants are trucks. Our parks are center dividers. Our attitude is fuck you.
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Last night, when Mehserle received a two year sentence for killing an unarmed man who was face down on the ground with another officer kneeling on his back, Oakland erupted in violence for the third time this year. America listens to only two voices: money and violence. My neighbors do not have money. When the government, including the justice system, says ‘we don’t give a rats ass about you and to prove it, we will not punish your murderers,” we answer with smashed windows, burned cars, and, last night, stripping officers of their guns and turning the tables. A gun sure looks different when it's pointed at your head.
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But what did you expect? Flowers? A peaceful march where we sang the old time spirituals?