For Sandra Bland: A Name Forever Remembered

This week, I wanted to write an article specifically just on Sandra Bland—because she deserves more than a weekly roundup. Some stories, some lives, can’t and shouldn’t be mentioned in just a quick bullet point or a wrap-up. Sandra Bland was more than a headline, more than a tragedy, more than a symbol. She was someone’s daughter, someone’s sister, a friend, and a bright and passionate woman. And nearly a decade after her death, we owe it to her memory to still say her name with care, with intention, and with the weight it deserves.

Sandra Bland was 28 years old, a young Black woman who radiated energy, humor, and conviction. She had a passion for activism and used her social media presence to speak openly about racism, police brutality, and justice. She was a proud member of Sigma Gamma Rho, deeply connected to her family and friends, and had just accepted a new job at her alma mater, Prairie View A&M University. Sandra was a woman with plans, dreams, and a future—a future that was stolen from her.

On July 10, 2015, Sandra was pulled over in Texas for a minor traffic violation. What should have been a routine stop escalated violently. She was arrested, jailed, and, three days later, found dead in her cell. Authorities ruled it a suicide, but questions, suspicions, and anger surrounded the case—and still do.

But this isn’t just about Sandra’s death. This is about why her story still matters: because nearly ten years later, this is still happening to people of color all across the United States. It hasn’t slowed down—in many ways, it has only intensified. Sandra’s name became part of the national cry for justice, but her death was not an isolated event. It was part of a pattern, part of a system, and part of a deep, ongoing wound in this country.

I felt called to write this article so we can pause and focus on Sandra’s memory—so we can hold space not only for her, but for anyone who has lost a loved one to police violence, even those whose names are not known, not shared, not headlined. Maybe, for someone reading this, it offers a moment to pause, to breathe, to reflect on good memories.

When I think back to when I first heard Sandra’s story, I remember the shock. The disbelief. The heartbreak over someone I had never met—but someone who, in that moment, felt like I had always known.

Where were you when you first heard about Sandra Bland? Do you remember how you found out? Was it a faithful telling, or just a scrolling headline at the bottom of the news? Stories like Sandra’s can’t hold their depth when reduced to soundbites or quick mentions. They deserve to be highlighted. They deserve full attention.

This is a space where I feel safe saying that we should all remember Sandra Bland’s name. She was a bright star in her circle, and I believe her name will forever shine on. Sandra Bland deserves to be remembered not just for how she died, but for how she lived—for her laughter, her light, her strength, her truth. Today, I write not to recap headlines, but to reflect—and to remind myself, and all of us, that some names must never fade from our hearts or from our fight.

Say her name. Sandra Bland.
“If we don’t say something, we are complicit.”