Grip Trilogy Box Set - Kennedy Ryan Page 0,205

complicit.”

He looks out over the crowd.

“And then there are cops like my cousin Greg, who has dedicated his life to actually serving and protecting, not just policing the communities we grew up in. I’m here for him and all the cops who say enough is enough and are ready to do something about it. I want to reimagine the system, rebuild it from the ground up.”

Grip clings to the mic as if it’s grounding him. He laughs, shaking his head.

“The best way to tear down the walls that divide us is to meet someone, to know someone on the other side of that wall,” he says. “Cops were a ‘they,’ a ‘them’ until my cousin Greg became one. White people were a ‘they,’ a ‘them’ until I went to school with them. Until one of them became my best friend.”

Grip turns his head toward stage left where he knows I always stand, his eyes tangling with mine.

“Until I fell in love with one of them,” he says softly.

My heart contracts. I blink at the tears he inspires in me all the time. With his words, with his hands, his kisses. He has so many weapons at his disposal to break me down, every one more effective than the last.

I look out over the crowd, faces of every shade and walk of life, and wonder if they’ll understand, if they’ll hear what I heard from the moment Rhyson played “Bruise” in our meeting months ago. We’ll see. Grip signals the drummer to drop the beat.

“This one’s called ‘Bruise’,” he says softly.

Am I all of your fears, wrapped in black skin, Driving something foreign, windows with black tint

Handcuffed on the side of the road, second home for black men

Like we don’t have a home that we trying to get back to when PoPo pulls me over with no infractions,

Under the speed limit, seat belt even fastened,

Turned on Rosecrans when two cruisers collapsed in Barking orders, yeah, this that Cali harassment

Guns drawn, neighbors looking from front lawns and windows I know cops got it hard, don’t wanna make a wife a widow

But they act like I ain’t paying taxes, like your boy ain’t a citizen

They think I’m riding filthy, like I’m guilty pleading innocence.

They say it's ‘Protect & Serve’, but check my word

Sunny skies, ghetto birds overhead stress your nerves,

They say if you ain’t doin’ wrong, you got nothin’ to fear, But the people sayin’ that, they can’t be livin’ here . . .

We all BRUISE, It’s that black and blue

A dream deferred, Nightmare come true

In another man’s shoes, Walk a mile or two

Might learn a couple things I’m no different than you!

You call for the good guys when you meet the bad men,

I’m wearing a blue shield and I still feel the reactions

When I patrol the block, I can sense dissatisfaction

There’s distrust, resentment in every interaction,

Whether the beat cop, lieutenant, sergeant or the captain We roll our sleeves up and we dig our hands in

I joined the force in order to make a difference,

Swore to uphold the law, protect men, women and children,

These life and death situations, we make split-second decisions

All for low pay, budget cutbacks and restrictions

Not just a job—it's a calling, a vocation,

My wife’s up late pacin’, for my safety—she’s praying,

I see what you see on all the cell phones

I’m just a man with a badge trying my best to make it home.

We all BRUISE, It’s that black and blue

A dream deferred, Nightmare come true

In another man’s shoes, Walk a mile or two

Might learn a couple things

I’m no different than you!

GRIP

“YOU WERE AMAZING.”

Bristol’s soft encouragement soothes some of my uncertainty about the performance. Performing “Bruise” in a roomful of cops and community activists is much different than in front of screaming fans.

“She’s right.” Greg, who is dressed in his uniform, smiles, even though his eyes remain solemn. “We still have a lot of work to do so people feel like we’re a part of the community. To protect them, not out to get them. ‘Bruise’ is exactly the kind of message both sides need to hear.”

They’re holding a reception for me to meet and greet people. I think I’ve shaken every hand here tonight. The stream of traffic is finally slowing down some, but I smile when I see my mom walking toward me. I didn’t even realize she would be here tonight. The smile freezes on my face when I notice who walks with her. My cousin Jade and my Aunt Celia, who hasn’t spoken to Greg in years.

“Hey,