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I don't want to become a hashtag. Another name that's repeated for days until the next black gets slain. The police went from making me nervous to making me petrified and everytime I seem to encounter them I can feel the blood rushing to my cheeks.

I just woke up from a bad dream. It was more of a nightmare than a dream of me being cold blooded murdered and shot to death by police who talked like gang bangers. My dream felt so real. I could literally feel the bullets piercing my skin with errupting pain like volcanos. My blood oozed from my wounds like hot lava and even though it was just a dream, I can't stop my hands from touching my abdomen as I still feel the sting.

The funny thing is I'm not afraid of gang bangers because they've always been the hood niggas I know that stood up for me and protected me. Once upon a time I thought that's what cops were for. There was a time when the fire fighters and police would have presentations at elementary schools enticing us with their cool looking suits. Now the only thing that entice our eyes are the guns on their waist. My eyes seem to dart to them everytime a cop is standing near my face and the bubbling nerves in my tummy is something that I can't seem to shake.

Earlier today while at the airport, two cops approached me. They told me they'd got a complaint about a black woman in all black matching my description begging for money. My eyes grew wide in fear wondering why I was being profiled since many people wore black and are black at the airport. I asked them the same things I wondered as they tried to reassure me that they were only "checking things out". Calm conversations are no longer calm because I can't help, but to think in how many seconds will my skin color be the thing that's wrong.

No matter how low I've been, I've never begged random strangers let alone the people I know for money. It was odd to me that I could be sitting in a corner minding my business and still get harassed by the police. The conversation never escalated and after probing me about my travel, they finally decided to leave. How many simple interactione like mine have become fatal? Our "president" seems to think of our men as thugs, but the only thugs I've met wear police suits.

I can remember years ago going to the beach at night my freshman year of college. My friend Tati was driving a Honda older than her. It was about four of us girls and one guy in the car. Most of us had on snapbacks because that was the thing at the time. As the caucasian officer approached the tented window car, he beeped for back up on his radio.

He expected a car full of black men and when he arrived at the car peaking through the window, he was met with teenage college girls and one guy. As a few more cars pulled up in the gas station shortly after him, my eyes again grew wide. He questioned our where abouts for sometime and my bestfriend Ty began getting sassy with him annoyed that he was only being difficult because he was mad that it was a car full of college girls instead of the "thugs" he was anticipating. Years later, I wonder could she have been a Sandra Bland in that moment. I wish the thought of being another "Sandra Bland" wasn't even a thing. There's too many names in the hashtags that it's becoming startling.

This wasn't the first time me and Ty got pulled over while in a car together. Freshman year of highschool, my older cousin Kawaine was driving us home from a party. It was in a bad neighborhood so as quickly as he drove there, he was turning around to take us home.

That night he was driving us in one of his many girlfriends car and a police pulled us over for no reason at all. We had to be no older that 13 (me) and 14 (her). Ty and I had on jeans with normal non provocative t-shirts, but that didn't stop the police from lying on his radio saying he pulled over a black male with two prostitutes. We waited for what seemed like eternity until he got back up.

After his partner arrived, he made us get out of the car. They frisked us even though they were male. I can still remember how violated I felt as his hands roughly felt up my 13 year old chubby body lingering too long on certain areas to even be considered a "frisk". I hadn't even had my first kiss yet and tears welled up in my eyes as I felt my innocence leave them as tears replaced them. My tears never fell though. I think that was day I began to fear cops because Dirty wasn't just a movie in LA, it was reality. They let us go eventually, but the damage was already done because I no longer saw them as the hero's in blue like when I was in grade school.

Maybe I secretly suffer from a little PTSD from encountering so many shitty police, but can you blame me? I think just about most people of color suffer the same trauma when it comes to them. I've had a cousin wrongly beat by them while in Oakland. No matter how many good cops I encounter, there's still this fear because I never know if my hashtag is near when they appear. It's nerve racking and frustrating because I shouldn't fear people who are supposed to protect our communities. Regardless, it still doesn't stop the rage and fear that subconsciously boils everytime one walks past me.