Kenneka's death shows that so many weeks, months, and years later since #SayHerName was first spoken, we are still no closer to uplifting and valuing the lives of Black girls, women, and femmes.
Here we are again.
Far too soon. It wasn't that long ago that I wrote about the ways that violence and misogynoir against Black girls, women, and femmes
are still upheld. We've heard the same arguments made: this pain that we feel is too familiar, the anger that is washing over us from seeing an innocent life callously stolen long before her time is seeping out. Our voices are raw, our fingertips are tired, and we're clawing at what more we could be said, or done, to stop this predatory hunt on the lives of Black girls.
But that isn't enough. It's not nearly enough.
As usual, the outrage over the murder and violence directed on Kenneka Jenkins has been extended mostly from the efforts of Black women and femmes. There is an overwhelming silence from major news outlets, and those that have expressed any kind of interest in the story have hyper-focused on the details of what Kenneka went though.
This post won't be trauma porn; I will not rehash the violence that Kenneka went through before she died. I won't go over the details about how police were lazy and following the playbook check by check to show through their actions that Kenneka didn't matter. I won't do that because I'm tired; I'm exhausted and too full of rage to perform trauma porn for audiences that won't see the humanity of the victims first.