27 March 2012

For the Love of Trayvon

The whole situation is fucked up.

From the fecklessness of many of the actors involved in Florida to the pundits adding their two pence on how to not get shot.
Besides the inane loss of a little boy's life is the aftermath. It's terribly disheartening that this is happening in 2012.
Besides not living in a post-racial country, it's scary to me to think that people can't empathize with the deceased's family.
Perhaps someone can't truly mourn Trayvon's life if they've never loved a little black boy. Or had a father that was once a little black boy. Or been a little black boy.

I've done the first two-Had crushes and been rejected by little black boys, loved the little black boy who is my little brother, thought about my father's childhood as a little black boy. Cried at the story of him being pulled over on a 10-speed bike for having the audacity to ride in his neighborhood; prayed that my little brother would never face the same treatment; wondered about my imaginary children and pondered whether I would raise them in my birth country or somewhere more accepting of their genetic legacy. Black boys are human to me.


I can only think in the midst of my sadness, anger and disgust that if Trayvon's murderer had been able to see him as human, worthy of love and loved that he'd still be alive.