What we say about Trayvon...

I watched a movie one time in which spores released from certain plants provoked masses of people to end their own lives. The imagery was haunting, but intriguing. Hundreds of people would each jump off of their respective buildings, others would simply step out in front of traffic or find the nearest , sharpest object to do the job--and the eeriest part was that there were no passionate explanations, no suicide notes, no screams for help from individuals who thought better of it at the last second.  There was only a quiet but desperate compulsion to give in to the inevitable. I sat transfixed.

I myself am not prone to hopelessness. Maybe when I was a child in a house of adults who were all so much smarter and stronger than I was. Maybe in middle school when life really did seem cruel with little potential for improvement.   But as an adult, as a rule, I am by the standard of many, obnoxiously hopeful. I feel in control of my own fate, even, at times, to the point of ignorance and irreverence. But in the last two weeks I have been reacquainted with a younger and more fragile self.  I have felt like one of those helpless people in that film who were so disoriented by the poison in the air around them that salvation, here in this world seemed  an impossibility.  

The case of Trayvon Martin has been my morning prayer and my evening contemplation for weeks now. The story seems to be growing in complexity. But it is the simplicity and simplemindedness on the periphery of the case that has me undone. What we say about Trayvon and how we say it is important because he is important but his experience also reflects and has come to symbolize the experience of an entire community of Americans.  There are conflicting reports about some of the events that transpired on the night that the Martin family lost their son and brother but here are some things that are undisputed.

A kid not yet old enough to legally vote, join the military or drink beer went to the store to get some skittles and a tea. He was wearing a hoody and blue jeans. He was chatting on the phone with a girl from his school as he walked back from the store when he was noticed by a neighborhood watch leader, an adult. The boy noticed the man and told the girl that he was being followed. This watchman called the police to report the “suspicious” kid and began to follow him. The 911 dispatcher informed him that he needn’t do that and that police were on the way. When police arrived on the scene the boy was dead and the shooter had some blood on his face and the back of his head. Witnesses had conflicting reports of what they saw and heard. The man claimed that he shot the boy in self-defense and he was never arrested.

Oh yeah and the young boy was black. 

And people started talking about it through the lens of race and then everyone started saying things—venemous things that created in me a kind of woozy despondence.

            First, a black mother wrote an open letter explaining the heartbreaking necessity of teaching her kids that people will not always judge them by the content of their character—and in fact that in some ways they are going to have to be better behaved than some other people in order to get the same benefits (like the benefit of not being described as “suspicious” and the benefit of not getting shot in the street  and the benefit of law enforcement giving a damn about it if you have been shot in the street.) It was a heart-wrenching letter. I related to it.

And then I read the comments. People were enraged that she was making this a “racial” issue, playing the “race card” and teaching her sons to be bigoted in their belief that white and light people are going to be racist against the .  I read these complaints and I thought, “these commenters don’t get it.”  They don’t know what it is like to try and raise children of color who are trusting and optimistic alongside the backdrop of a story like the Trayvon Martin case. But, I thought to myself, who cares? These are just the thoughts of the uneducated but vocal minority.

Then I watched as Geraldo Rivera, a journalist, tried to make a scapegoat of a hoody—implying that the real criminal in this case was neither the shooter, nor the justice system but the (relatively common) fashion choice of a teenage boy and I thought about my nephews and my brothers and my cousins and what I might feel and do if one of them had had their life taken from them before they even had a chance to experience the other side of adolescence. And then if after that the culpability for the crime committed was placed on the victim who might have been my sweet little Chaz or or his cherubic cousin,  Carlton because they had neglected on that day , as a sort of peace offering for bringing their dark skin into the community, to wear an ascot or thick rimmed glasses or  a copy of their background check ironed on to a T-shirt—and had instead chosen a sweater that might keep their ears warm should the need arise.  If someone had implied that my son by virtue of his clothing was a provocateur in his own murder—I don’t know what I would do, but I know that if that someone was Mr. Rivera, he would be smart to keep his distance, lest I feel threatened and in need of standing my ground.

And finally President Obama took a moment to speak to the parents of Trayvon. In a rare, break from the more typical and intentional transracial speeches that he gives he made a point to connect to the Martin family and to remind the nation that if he had a son, he would look like Trayvon. Those of us who look like Trayvon and our good friends of various shades, we know what he meant.  He meant that this tragedy might not have occurred if Trayvon had looked a little more like a Biden and a little less like an Obama. We can’t know for sure , of course. But, we do know that black children are more likely to be diagnosed with aggressive and psychotic disorders than children of other races, and we do know that black boys and men are disproportionately and more severely punished in the educational and criminal Justice systems compared with their non-black counterparts who have been accused of the exact same crimes. And we know that there are a disproportionate number of black men on the receiving end of police brutality. So, when Former Speaker of the house and Presidential hopeful Newt Gingrich called the president’s words to the family disgraceful and appalling saying that the President tried to make this a racial issue, I thought:

Spores. Confused.. Nausea.  Disoriented. Toxins. Losing will to fight.

Because if the uninformed blog commenter doesn’t get it

And the journalist who happens to be a person of color doesn’t get it

And if a presidential candidate doesn’t get it,

 or even worse if he gets it but pretends not to get it for political showmanship –

Then I sit here despairing. 

But maybe you will help me.

Please Pray for the family of Trayvon Martin and for the Black Community in America who must face vicarious trauma each time stories like this unfold and we hear conversations that present and at times promote distrust, hostility and aggression of people who look like us and in this case like our brothers, fathers, nephews and sons.

Pray for George Zimmerman, because no matter what is proven or disproven in the weeks to come, we know that George Zimmerman took a life and that does not occur without psychological, emotional and spiritual consequences.

And pray for our nation that we might be brave enough to hear one another’s stories, acknowledge the existence and effects of racism and fight against any such evil that threatens to take our lives or our hope.