No Justice Today

It is a heavy day. I am thinking about the little boy who lives across the street. To some people, he was born a statistic, he is already a threat. I wonder whether he has seen the news. He is probably less than ten years old. As young as he is, I am sure he has some understanding of what the verdict means.

I wonder whether his parents have already decided never to let him wear a hooded sweatshirt or walk alone to the corner store because he might be hunted down and killed.

Again, we have affirmation that the system in place in this country places little value on black and brown bodies, whether it's through imprisonment, sterilization, or outright killing.

I am thirsty for some kind of justice. And I know that it is hardly enough.

Trayvon Martin is dead—and so many young men like him are dead or in prison—because in America it was his responsibility to take it. It was his responsibility to let a stranger with a gun follow him at night in his own neighborhood and suspect him of wrongdoing. It was his responsibility to apologize for being a black kid who scared people. It was not George Zimmerman’s responsibility to let a boy get home to his family. 

- Cord Jefferson, "The Zimmerman Jury Told Young Black Men What We Already Know"

 

Imagining Justice for Trayvon Martin (and All of Us)

I stopped by the Million Hoodie March for Trayvon Martin after work today, my hoodie up in solidarity.  There was a huge crush of people and an ABC7 van on Hill just south of Fifth, and the sea of bodies filling the square was heartening to see. I walked my bike carefully through the crowd, careful about keeping people from getting poked by my pedals. I was below the stage, separated by a concrete divider. I stood up on the rail so that I could see above the wall and catch a glimpse of the speakers, trying to listen to what they were saying, taking in the surroundings for the short time I could be there. 

Skittles & Tea 03/26/12

I've been in a few conversations about Trayvon Martin's killing in the last week, and it was only yesterday that it was pointed out to me that there is a language of innocence used as a tool to evoke  an emotional response about the injustice of this boy's killing. Someone presented the question: If he weren't holding only Skittles and iced tea, would that have made it okay? Would we accept this kind of killing if a knife or a bag of weed had been found on him?