As we were riding home and waiting for the jury’s
verdict, I happened to glance at my youngest son as he sat in the back seat of
the car leaning forward as if he were watching the events unfold through the
radio. His face was full of anticipation.
His eyes were intent. His belief in the justice system was untarnished. My heart was racing and I began to feel queasy.
I took a few deep breaths to try and
control the sense of impending disappointment that I have become accustomed to
preparing myself for. In matters such as
these, I’ve learned to prepare for the worse…to have no expectations. It’s a defense mechanism that I’ve worked on
for as long as I can remember.
You see, being a black person in America has been
quite a challenge. While I am a proud
American, I have always felt a clear distinction between being American and being
African American. There has always
seemed to be two existing paths to everything.
There’s one that is traveled by Americans and another for the journey of
the African American. While both paths
can arguably lead to success, the road that I have access to is wrought with
obstacles, pitfalls and hidden agendas.
It’s filled with dead ends, detours and setbacks. It’s dark, uphill, and challenging to
navigate. The very design seems downright sinister. Because the other road was
developed to help Americans reach their goals, they are able to make it safely
to their intended destination without incidence. This makes it difficult for them to
understand the challenges that I face.
After all, how would they know when they have never
been on the path? I mean really, could I
expect that a jury of six made up of at least five Americans would see that Trayvon
Martin should have been able to return home safely from the store that fateful
night? Could I really expect them to see
that he did not deserve to die? Could I
expect them to see that George Zimmerman had no right to approach him? Could I expect them to see that George
Zimmerman should have followed the advisement of the dispatcher who told him
not to follow Trayvon? Could I really expect
them to put themselves in Trayvon’s shoes and think about how they would feel
if a stranger were following them? Could
I really expect them to see the value in Trayvon’s life? Probably not.
Unfortunately, Trayvon Martin was just another kid
on the wrong path and that’s all Americans seem to be able to see. Oh how I long to travel on the American
path. I stand in front of it often and
peer down its open and bright entryway.
Every now and again I find the courage to take a few awkward steps on that
road. Americans notice me immediately
and redirect me to my own familiar path.
That’s what happened tonight.
Tonight the “Not Guilty” verdict ripped the innocence from my youngest
son’s eyes while simultaneously proving that the blindfold on lady justice’s
eyes has slipped just beneath them. The
small glimmer of hope that I could gain access to the American path was gone in
an instant. I felt a sense of defeat, a
bit of anger, a smidgeon of disbelief, and an overwhelming sense of sadness and
disappointment. All are reminders of the
journey that I must endure as an African American. Rest in peace Trayvon.
