It’s been five years.
Five years since George Floyd was murdered in broad daylight by police officer Derek Chauvin—his knee crushing the life out of a Black man’s neck for 9 minutes and 29 seconds.
Five years since the world watched George beg for breath, call for his mother, and die while three other officers stood by and did nothing.
What was his “crime”? A suspected counterfeit bill. Let that sink in.
The outrage that followed wasn’t new. It was a dam finally bursting after centuries of state-sanctioned violence, systemic racism, and the deliberate dehumanization of Black lives. The Black Lives Matter movement surged in global numbers and visibility. Streets filled with protestors screaming a truth so painful, it should never have needed saying in the first place: Black Lives Matter.
But here we are.
Five years later, and nothing has fundamentally changed. Cops are still killing Black people. Courts are still letting them walk. Governments are still silent or worse—actively complicit.
Breonna Taylor was murdered in her sleep.
Shot dead in her own home during a botched no-knock raid. No one has been held truly accountable. The system gave us legal jargon and press conferences—but not justice.
Ahmaud Arbery was hunted and killed while jogging.
Three white men—one a former police officer—chased him down like prey, shot him, and left him for dead. They weren’t arrested until the video went viral months later. The legal system wasn’t going to act until the world forced it to.
In Canada, Black boys are dying too.
Toronto isn’t safe. Peel isn’t safe. The myth that Canada is “better” or “less racist” is a dangerous lie. Racism doesn’t change because of a border. It just hides under nicer words.
And then there are the police officers of colour—brown, Black, Indigenous—who’ve joined the system and turned their backs on their people. Let’s call it what it is: betrayal. You wear the badge, you enforce white supremacy. You choose power over principle. You’ve sold your soul to the machine, to the illusion of inclusion, to a paycheck soaked in blood. You don’t just enforce the rules—you become the rules. And the rules were never made for us.
You think being in uniform protects you from the reality of your skin? The moment you’re out of uniform, you're a target again. You’ll never be white enough for the system you're defending.
And what is all this hate really about?
Skin? Birthplace? An accent? We’re born into bodies we didn’t choose. Flesh and bone. Brown, Black, Indigenous—people of the global South—have been enslaved, colonized, raped, displaced, bombed, experimented on, imprisoned, and silenced for centuries. All because of greed. Because the West decided it owned the world and the people in it.
So here’s the question: When do we get justice? When do our lives stop being bargaining chips in political games? When do we stop being hashtags, and start being human? Why are we still screaming “My life matters”? Do you hear how broken that is? Imagine needing to beg people to see your humanity. To say “Please, I’m alive. Please, I matter.” That’s what this world has done. It’s stripped entire peoples of dignity. It’s reduced cultures to commodities, countries to war zones, and lives to losses.
The global South is bled dry for profit. Indigenous lands are stolen and poisoned. Black communities are overpoliced and underprotected. The media tells us it's complex. It’s not. It’s simple: Power. Profit. White supremacy.
They know exactly what they’re doing.
And we’re done being polite about it. We’ve tried petitions. We’ve marched peacefully. We’ve grieved respectfully. We’ve waited. And waited. And waited. Still no justice. Still no peace.
There’s no reforming a system built on genocide, slavery, and exploitation. You don’t “fix” what was designed to kill you. You burn it down and build something better.
So what now?
We remember George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery—not as hashtags, but as human beings. As family. As loved ones stolen by a racist system.
We remember the names we were never told, the ones that didn’t go viral. The ones buried quietly by police reports and press releases. The stolen children. The missing Indigenous women. The unnamed.
We fight.
We organize.
We speak.
We never forget.
We stop pretending that justice is coming unless we force it to. And we stop expecting those in power to save us. They won’t. They never have. We are our own liberation.
Black lives matter.
Indigenous lives matter.
Brown lives matter.
Palestinian lives matter.
Global South lives matter.
Refugee lives matter.
We matter.
And we won’t whisper it anymore. We’re screaming it, unapologetically.
Not one more life. Not one more year. Not one more empty promise. Justice now.
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