The Check In

They call. They message.

Then the occasional tag on social media.
I am wanting to check in on you… We
are thinking of you… I am so so sorry…

Then                   there                   I go
again                  pounding my head
sifting through thick
                             air
scattering names on a dusty floor

It is morning. It is the afternoon, maybe
the middle of some God-awful hour. I was

calm. I was hunkered low, shades drawn
maybe sipping a tea

                                                     No one
should see me    pacing kitchen

to porch

                                                  to bedroom

grabbing at lint or         shaking my wrist
                    in the mirror

                                                      Don’t call
don’t remind me there are soldiers

tramping on my lawn with gas
                                         and pepper spray.
I’ve just laid the sheets tight in my bed.
I’ve just trimmed the plants.
                                               And you are so white
and fragile with your checking. You are so late
so late so late.

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“I wrote ‘The Check In’ as a response to a strange phenomenon I was noticing during the pandemic. After the murder of George Floyd and the uprisings that followed, I and other Black friends began receiving calls, texts, and emails from white people that weren’t necessarily close friends. Their attempts to connect with me really felt as if they were seeking an explanation or comfort for their own anxieties. Isn’t it always the case that Black people end up caring for white fragility? For me these messages felt like another kind of violence to endure. They made me anxious. I could not answer them, so I wrote this reply.”
—Nandi Comer

Black Lives Matter Anthology