No Justice, No Peace

I have had this blog in my head for days now. I wanted to wait because I realized that I am passionately emotional about this subject. Trayvon Martin and his unjustified homicide are all over the news and social media. It hurts my heart especially when I see his mom on the news trying to hold it together and be strong to plead for justice in the death of her son. By now, everyone knows the details so I won't digress.

Today, President Obama finally spoke on the situation and honestly, he echoed the sentiments of African Americans everywhere. "If I had a son, he'd look like Trayvon." Well I do have a son. Not a day goes by that I am not keenly aware that my baby has to be taught some lessons that Caucasians don't even have to concern themselves about.  It is a painful reality of being Black in America. Racism remains alive and well in America despite Obama's presidency and occupancy in the White House. 

We HAVE to teach our sons about dealing with the police. We have to teach them about the preconceived notions that many will have just because they are young and Black in America. We have to teach them that their presence on an elevator may make some person uncomfortable by their music choice and apparently their clothing choices and a host of other things that thwart their innocence way too soon. Our reality is not yours. For a change, I am not being cynical, this is real. I think the straw that broke the camel's back and made me put pen to paper was Geraldo Rivera. His simple ass actually said that Trayvon's hoodie is just as responsible for his being shot as the killer. Really, Geraldo? Do you actually believe that? Last time I checked, hoodies were meant to keep us warm. Everyone in my house loves them. Today, Miami Heat showed up for a photo up in support of Trayvon Martin and guess what? They were all wearing hoodies.

The outcry for Trayvon is important because the discussion is not to try Trayvon's killer in the media. The real issue is for justice to be done and a fair investigation take place so the family can have peace of mind and closure. We all deserve the right to walk around without some overzealous individual questioning our rights to be there. There are soo many laws which can be reviewed but this is one that definitely elicits scrutiny.  By all accounts, the police in this case were negligent. They failed to question witnesses, they took the shooter's word without question, they failed to notify the family in a timely manner despite the fact that they had access to his cell phone, and the list goes on. 

I want my son to be comfortable wherever in whatever environment he is placed in. I want him to be seen as a person with rights. As a parent, I will always worry about his welfare. As he grows older, I will worry more about him in terms of where he goes and how he's viewed. Hell, I worry about my husband and brother, and nephews etc. They have an undue burden to deal with because they are Black males in a society that perceives them as threatening. This mentality has been perpetuated for centuries. We can thank the vestiges of slavery for that. I don't foresee a time when that won't be an issue but I'd love to witness it in my lifetime. I am not getting my hopes up. I've seen to much and I know too much. History has not been good to our men and it definitely hasn't been fair. My prayer is that we get to see justice not only for Trayvon but for anyone who is gunned down senseless while walking home with a bag of skittle and a can of iced tea while chatting with their girlfriend. There shouldn't have to rallies and demonstrations and vigils to get a serious investigation. Every life is equally valuable. We cannot allow individuals to take the law into their own hands and then claim self defense. Trayvon belonged in the gated community and was minding his own business. On any given day, we all deserve that. Justice for Trayvon means justice for everyone. I don't think any of us should be at peace with anything less. Trayvon could be your son, he could definitely be mine.

In Justified Diva Love,

Pam