I am a white middle-aged soccer mom brought to tears by the idea of a Million Hoodie March in honor of the unnecessary/unexpected/unconscionable/unbelievable/unbearable death of Trayvon Williams.
I have a child of my own.
She is my only child.
She likes to wear hoodies.
She goes to the store by herself.
She likes to buy ice tea and candy.
What if…
My baby is not in danger because she is a young Black man. But, she is in danger because she is a woman. I felt the fear when Rush Limbaugh unleashed his vitriol on Sandra Fluke who dared to testify before a Congressional Committee in support of insurance plans including of coverage birth control pills. Her carefully crafted testimony made reference only to medically necessary non-birthcontrol uses for this particular proven effective and readily available medical hormone treatment. And yet a major media personality felt free to call her a whore and a prostitute and demand public videos showings of her sexual exploits.
Granted that is not a death threat. It’s not nearly as dangerous as “Walking While Black”. But still, for many women, rape may as well be death.
So I can relate to the fear of young black men walking…well…anywhere…
I felt threatened a couple of days after Rush Limbaugh’s big tirade, when I walked through a gauntlet of men in suits with banners and drums making their stand on the street corner next to Brooklyn Bourough Hall. Encouraged by Rick Santorum and Rush Limbaugh these men had come from another state, Pennsylvania, and were literally beating drums and shouting slogans to promote male dominance in the name of the Catholic Church and I was frightened enough to make a call from my cellphone to my parish church a couple of blocks away. What should I do? The church secreatary transfered me to l priest who told me that we all live together in the United States and everyone is entitled to free speech and I shouldn’t try to engage or talk to them. I shouldn’t do anything. I should just walk away.
Yeah, well that’s what Treyvon Martin was trying to do and look how well that worked out for him. He’s dead!
Once upon a time, when I was a seasonal employee at a National Park in Alaska, we recieved formal training on how to avoid bears. It went like this: Don’t be an idiot. Don’t get between a mother an her cubs. Don’t fry bacon in your tent. If you see a bear on the trail turn around and walk the other way. Whatever. No big deal… I can live with that. In my mind there was not much difference between the avoiding bears and avoiding potential rapists on campus or walking home from work. For example: “You can take the shorcut through the park during daylight but never ever after dark!” Make sure that you walk all the way around the outside edge so that you are always on the sidewalk underneath the street lights and closer to the houses so someone will hear you in case you have to scream.
When I went camping with friends in Alaska, I it occurred to me that the guys were geniuinely terrified of bears and also this was a new experience for them. The fear that someone or something might attack you randomly for no reason was not something they were used to. By the time I was a college student working as a summer seasonal in Alaska I’d been living with the possibility of random attack for no reason over 10 years. It occurred to me to wonder what I could have accomplished if I hadn’t been living with that fear.
We all live in this culture. We are all victims.
As a 40-something mother, I look at the photo of Trayvon Martin and I see the face of a child. I think it is unbearably sweet that this boy found time to talk to his girlfriend by phone durning the NBA All-Star Game !!! I know he was innocent because when he went out to a convenience store for refreshments during halftime, (How many beer commercials can they possibly show?) and the purchases that Treyvon Martin was returning home with were candy and iced tea.
He was a baby and he never got the chance to live his life. That is a crime.
The seeds had planted for Trayvon Martin to become an ideal employee/husband/father/uncle/grandfather/boss…
He probably would have gone to college. He probably would have blessed his parents with beautiful grandbabies.
He would have become a man.
Maybe he would have become as amazing as Barack Obama. Maybe he would simply have held job, loved his children and paid his bills. We will never know the potential of Trayvon Martin because he was assasinated by a vigalante who was allowed to think that if he saw a black man he was allowed to shoot.
WTF!!!
As they sang in High School Musical: “We’re All in This Together!”
My almost-Irish-twin-brother’s name is Martin. This past weekend my little baby girl looked cute and vulnerable and fierce with her FIRST hoodie pulled over her head at the citywide robotics tournament at the Jacob Javits Convention Center in Manhattan.
Trayvon Martin could have been my brother or my daughter. He could have been my child.
There is a march this evening from Union Square at 6:00 in honor of Trayvon Martin. It is the Million Hoodie March. I plan to be there in support of Trayvon’s mom, because I am a mom.