I don't know what to say. Writing is where I go to process things I don't understand. This morning, I'm out of words. Over the weekend, I witnessed an explosion of righteous anger. I watched Black people march down the streets of major American cities, including my own here in Ohio, protesting injustice when they've done this before and will likely do it again. I saw cities burn, windows get smashed, and violence perpetrated by the hands of the oppressors, who put knees on necks and feign innocence, claiming some kind of moral and physical authority. I'm so angry. I'm so sad. I'm so disappointed.