As a proud American, a father who lost his own dad in a senseless act of violence, and a black man, I have been deeply troubled by the deaths of African-Americans at the hands of law enforcement and angered by the cowardly and hateful targeting and killing of police officers. I grieve with the families who have lost loved ones, as I know their pain all too well.

[David Mills:] Even the people themselves who were perpetrating that violence, did they think that was wise? Was that a wise reasoned action?
Sister Souljah: Yeah, it was wise. I mean, if black people kill black people every day, why not have a week and kill white people? In other words, white people, this government and that mayor were well aware of the fact that black people were dying every day in Los Angeles under gang violence. So if you're a gang member and you would normally be killing somebody, why not kill a white person? Do you think that somebody thinks that white people are better, are above and beyond dying, when they would kill their own kind?

Homicide Harlem blam! what's tha problem?

<nowiki>[</nowiki>Michael Jackson] did real damage in my overall life. I was a 12-year-old boy who was hurt by his family and ignored by people at school. Michael would sit and talk to me for hours and he would listen. Then he would get bored. The biggest thing that Michael's done to children is befriending the ones that are in need and then abandoning them

Dealt with a best friend getting killed. It was [by] two 35-year-old black men. Wasn't no police officer involved, wasn't anybody else involved, and I didn't hear anybody shouting "black lives matter" then.

It’s personal to me. I think about my grandfather. My grandfather was a guy who was incredibly physically abusive to his family. To the point where my grandmother left him and my mom dropped out of high school to take care of the family. When I got older, and he was dying — essentially, he was drinking himself to death, he struggled with alcoholism — my mom let him back into our lives. And for me, he was the most patient, kind, funny person … I loved him to death. He’d play the guitar for me, he’d tell me these wild, fantastical stories. When I got older I thought about this abusive husband and father, and this really incredible grandfather, and recognized that they were just so equally true. He was somebody that could have been cycling in and out of our criminal justice system, but it wouldn’t account for the fact that he was a Korean War combat veteran, he came home with PTSD, self-medicated with alcohol. And where were our systems in place to support him so that he could support his family? So that he could do things differently? I see that with my clients all the time. There will be somebody that is getting into fights and the DA says “Hey, we gotta throw this person in jail.” My answer is “Well you’ve thrown him in jail two or three times, he comes back, he’s still engaging in this behavior, we’re not changing behavior. Let’s learn about him instead. He has a trauma history, he is somebody who was abused badly as a child. All that was modeled for him were really unhealthy relationships. Why can’t we invest in support services, why can’t we give him access to therapy?” Because that could change behavior rather than throwing him in jail, which obviously isn’t working. Tying it back in to my personal story: what was modeled for my parents, certainly, were unhealthy relationships. Then what were modeled for me were really unhealthy relationships. It is only through access to things like therapy that have allowed me to be able to navigate relationships in a healthier way than those who came before me in my family tree. Now I recognize that we should be taking a holistic trauma-informed approach to address violence.

The first person I killed was a thirty-year-old gypsy who was dealing heroin in my neighborhood. I was fourteen, I tried to fight him and make him leave, but he beat me up. So I went to my grandfather and told him everything; he loaded a revolver, gave it to me and told me to shoot him in the knees. I shot him in the knees with the first shot but the second one went wrong and I hit his liver and he died. It was a war and my father did much worse. He was one of those who carried out reprisals, he suffered three very serious attacks, in one of them I was also in the car when they shot at us. A real war. Then my father had to leave the country because the war was lost. Corruption and the power of traffickers and drugs won. In fact he joined the police, politics, corrupt power and our country was occupied by these people. My mother, finding herself in this situation, married to a man who for years had opposed this system, had to flee because too often corrupt policemen came to search and threaten us, to know where my father was hiding, where his money was. I myself was taken into the woods several times, they pointed a gun at my head to try to get information. Then I also went away and had my experiences.

With the death of Michael Brown in Ferguson, the death of Eric Garner in Staten Island, the ongoing protests throughout the country, and the assassinations of NYPD Officers Wenjian Liu and Rafael Ramos, we are at a crossroads. As a society, we can choose to live our everyday lives, raising our families and going to work, hoping that someone, somewhere, will do something to ease the tension—to smooth over the conflict. We can roll up our car windows, turn up the radio and drive around these problems, or we can choose to have an open and honest discussion about what our relationship is today—what it should be, what it could be, and what it needs to be—if we took more time to better understand one another.

Understandably, many persons want to end the rape, murder, and violence in our communities today, and wind up strengthening the hands of the State and its police agents. They will not get rid of crime, but the cops will militarily patrol our communities, and further turn us against one another. We must stay away from that trap. Frustrated and confused, Black people may attack one another, but instead of condemning them to a slow death in prison or shooting them down in the streets for revenge, we must deal with the underlying social causes behind the act. [...] Only the community will effectively deal with the mater. Not the racist Capitalist system, with its repressive police, courts and prisons. Only we have psychology and understanding to deal with it; now we must develop the will. No one else cares.

Let's knock out the psychobabble. He was a pervert, a child molester, he was a pedophile. And to be giving this much coverage to him, day in and day out, what does it say about us as a country? I just think we're too politically correct. No one wants to stand up and say we don't need Michael Jackson. He died, he had some talent, fine. There's men and women dying every day in Afghanistan. Let's give them the credit they deserve.

I grew up in the hood. And so, when we think about these communities that we care about, the communities that have been so-called devastated by drugs of abuse, I believed that narrative for a long time. In fact, I’ve been studying drugs for about 23 years; for about 20 of those years, I believed that drugs were the problems in the community. But when I started to look more carefully, started looking at the evidence more carefully, it became clear to me that drugs weren’t the problem. The problem was poverty, drug policy, lack of jobs—a wide range of things. And drugs were just one sort of component that didn’t contribute as much as we had said they have.

I grew up in a predominantly Black and Latine community where gang violence was common. My parents grew up in El Salvador, and when they took me to visit, I was struck by the level of poverty I saw. I saw that no matter where in the world my people go, they're exposed to varying levels of injustice. And I knew I had to do something about it, so I decided to write.

George Floyd's awful brutal death is what we should be talking about and addressing the racism, the discrimination and the inequalities black people face in my city, in our country and around the world.
It's really important nobody's under any mistaken impression that it is acceptable to be abusive or violent towards police officers or even journalists.

The American people know we can do better. And of course we know that every single black life is valuable. The black cops who’ve been shot in the line of duty – they matter. The black small business owners who’ve watched their life’s work go up in flames – they matter. The black kids who’ve been gunned down on the playground – their lives matter too. And their lives are being ruined and stolen by the violence on our streets. It doesn’t have to be like this. It wasn’t like this in South Carolina five years ago. Our state came face-to-face with evil. A white supremacist walked into Mother Emanuel Church during Bible Study. Twelve African Americans pulled up a chair and prayed with him for an hour. Then he began to shoot. After that horrific tragedy, we didn’t turn against each other. We came together – black and white, Democrat and Republican. Together, we made the hard choices needed to heal – and removed a divisive symbol, peacefully and respectfully. What happened then should give us hope now. America isn’t perfect. But the principles we hold dear are perfect. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that even on our worst day, we are blessed to live in America. It’s time to keep that blessing alive for the next generation. This President, and this Party, are committed to that noble task.