"The Season of Looking Away"

​It’s that season again. The one where open hostility toward Black men is brushed off as “just how things are.” Where you can bat your lashes, pretend you saw him, and turn the other way.

It’s not easy for those of us who happen to be Black men. Men who don’t know the victims our so-called “brothers,” according to them, have abused. Men who would never victimize another human being—because that kind of cruelty isn’t wired into our souls. We hardly exist. But when you’re Black, it takes just one—one reckless, violent act—to stain us all. To make them say, “See? That’s how they are.” To make them believe it’s not just one—it’s all of us.

They met online. The first date was fine—awkward, maybe, but sweet. Two men navigating the fragile terrain of attraction and trust. But the second date? That’s when the mask slipped. That’s when brutality arrived, uninvited.

Remember King Kong? The way that giant ape cradled the delicate blonde in his palm, as if she were a dream. That’s how they see us. Brutes. Beasts. Threats.

And then one man—one Black man—pretends to be gay, uses that mask to get close, and rapes a Latino man. A man who barely speaks the language. A man so tuned into Trump’s America that he believes no one will care. Because he’s undocumented. Because MAGA has made it legal to punish the undocumented. To treat them as less than human.

But I’ve got news for you, you dirty bastard. I don’t care what color you are. You hurt an innocent man. You thought he’d be too afraid to speak. You thought he’d shimmer in silence, absorbing the pain you inflicted. You thought no one would care.

Well, I care. And I’m not alone.

To the MAGA crowd who cheers this silence—who sees undocumented lives as disposable: He is more human than you. More human than any rapist. More human than your twisted laws and your smug cruelty.

This isn’t about race. This is about justice. But not the kind handed down by courts that wear their bias like a badge. Not the kind filtered through a Supreme Court that’s as MAGA as it gets.

No—this justice will have to come from somewhere higher. From the collective conscience. From the truth that refuses to stay buried. From the voices that rise, even when the system tries to silence them.

And yes, the man who committed this crime was Black. Not me. Not some innocent soul walking through the world with dignity. But a hateful Black man who saw another human being and chose violence. Who assumed—because society keeps saying so—that this Latino man was undocumented, disposable, invisible. He didn’t know the man was documented. Didn’t care. Because cruelty doesn’t ask for credentials.

Justice won’t come for a race. It will come for you. For what you did to him. For what you tried to do to all of us.
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And when it comes, it won’t ask permission from any bench. It will arrive like thunder—unapologetic, undeniable, and overdue.