A few weeks after Trayvon Martin was killed, my youngest son
Deuce (12 at the time) was stopped by 3 polices officers with their guns drawn
because he was walking back from the wooded area our neighborhood with his BB
rifle. On first glance looks sensible, but when you add in the fact that he had
just been walking back from the woods with his two nonblack friends who also
had their BB guns, yet they were allowed to continue home, you may begin to
raise an eyebrow.
When I answered that call that told me the police were
holding my son in the neighborhood, who subsequently was wearing a hoodie, I
remembered feeling nauseous. I know Deuce, what could he have done? I was
unaware that he had been carrying that BB gun openly. When he received it for
Christmas I gave him a LONG lecture about how realistic it looked and how I
didn't care that his white friends carried theirs openly, he couldn't do it. I
handed him a duffle bag to carry it in and told him to keep it there until he
was in the woods where the targets they were shooting at we're set up. He
looked at me as if I were crazy, and did what kids do, waited until he caught
me slippin' and did it his way. The first officer to talk to me that night continuously said
to me how it was because of Trayvon they responded with the "abundance of
caution". Caution? The three of them needed to draw their guns and point
them at my son for his own safety? That's where we are now?
As Deuce and I turned to walk home I knew two things 1) he
would never try to play with that BB gun again and 2) had it not been for
Trayvon's sacrifice one officer, or for that matter, one neighbor may have
responded to their assumptions ending with my son being shot. I can't tell you
how long I hugged my son that night, but I remembered that after I thanked God,
I thanked Trayvon. It was because of him my son made it home; and it will be
his sacrifice that will allow millions of our sons to come home.
I have no words about the verdict; only that justice has
never been blind to color, it's been that way for us for 400 years. Before
Trayvon's death, my sons could not imagine the America I grew up in, let alone
the one their grandparents grew up in. Now they know what I mean when I
repeatedly admonish them that when they both make it from Kindergarden to College
without a stop to prison or the graveyard that one of them will be taking
somebody else's slot. Now they understand why only 1 in 3 make it unscathed;
why my fears for them aren't hyperbole, why the street corner isn't the only
place their lives are in danger.
This is our reality but we can't sit back and be victims.
I've explained to my sons why I only allow them to wear white tees and red at
home, why we only wear collared shirts when we go out. I've explained to them
how "matching the description" by wearing the urban uniform could be the
most dangerous way they could endanger their lives. This has shown them why
I've been trying to imprint these habits on them now, so they continue to
practice them when they leave the nest. I don't know if any of these things
will save their lives but I've gotta hope that they will.
Thank you Trayvon, you did not die in vain.
