LaTricia Mitchell
If you’ve entered Lowry at all in the past week, you should recognize the name Trayvon Martin. If nothing else, you know his face, thanks to the Black Student Association’s art wall that details Trayvon’s case and a number of past and present black deaths. The 17-year-old’s murder and the ensuing events have sparked a national uproar.
This is the story in a nutshell: On Feb. 26, 2012, in a gated community in Sanford, Fla., African-American teen Trayvon Martin was shot from a close range by George Zimmerman, a Hispanic member of the community sitting in his parked vehicle. Trayvon was returning to his father’s fiancée’s home from a 7-Eleven, carrying a package of Skittles and a can of Arizona Iced Tea. Zimmerman found Trayvon’s presence “suspicious,” as detailed by a series of calls made to 911 about a guy in a “dark hoodie, staring and looking at all the houses. Looks like he’s up to no good or on drugs or something … These assholes, they always get away.” Although receiving direct instruction from the 911 dispatcher to not follow Martin, Zimmerman proceeded to do so. Several eyewitnesses also called in to report a scuffle, the “desperate wail of a child, a gunshot, and then silence.” Trayvon Martin was found dead at the scene. George Zimmerman claims that he shot Martin in self-defense. Though taken in for questioning, Zimmerman has not been arrested at this time.
Public reaction to this incident has been intense, to say the least. From Geraldo Rivera’s condemnation of the hoodie, to President Obama’s heartfelt address (“If I had a son, he’d look like Trayvon”), and over 2.2 million signatures on Change.org demanding Zimmerman’s arrest, people everywhere are chiming in, citing racial profiling as a potential cause of Trayvon’s death.
When it comes to everyday citizens, the jury is out on Zimmerman’s innocence. USA Today polled over 3,000 adults about the situation. While 51 percent of surveyed black Americans believe Zimmerman is “definitely guilty,” only 10 percent of white Americans believed likewise.
To be completely honest, Zimmerman’s guilt is irrelevant to me. Because of his gun, no one but he will ever know the full story. Trayvon’s testimony was invalidated by his final breath.
These are the things that break my heart about racism: the silence. The Sanford police had the opportunity to soften any ills done unto Trayvon and his family, but their complete dismissal of the case indicates something far deeper than a simple racial slur. Why is it that the police tested only Trayvon for drugs? Why did Trayvon’s lifeless body lie in the morgue as a John Doe for three days though his mother reported him missing?
These are the things that should keep us up at night. We don’t have the right to cry with false empathy, “How could someone do this?!”
Little do we know, many of us are George Zimmermans waiting to happen. It’s not likely that Zimmerman was some crazed nut. He believes the defense of his community is a just cause, which it is. The problem lies in our perception. One of the results of our broken country and its systemic dehumanizing of certain ethnic groups is this: Suspicion is securely embedded into the shade of one’s skin. The media lies to us as they wildly over represent people of color in criminal cases. These days, our fears are justified in the form of a 9-millimeter. Through it all, we walk around on eggshells as we wait for someone to threaten our personal security.
As we encounter the suspicious hologram projected by our twisted society, we rip from them the most basic of human rights. I shamefully confess that I, too, perpetuate the hatred: Just last week upon returning from Drug Mart, I saw a black male community member walking in my direction. As my breath quickened, I closely grabbed my bag of flour with determination, my head down. I’ll admit there is a sense of intersectionality within my experiences as a black woman living in Wooster, Ohio, but I know the root of my fear. He passed me amicably, smiling as he greeted me with a kind hello. As he walked in the other direction, I was filled with a deep sense of sorrow. I trusted the frailty of my heart far above any immediate hope in humanity. When it was all said and done, I only cheated myself.
I know I’m not alone. If we want to stop reading stories like Trayvon’s, we should probably start inwardly.