'Another brown seventeen year old dies in Florida. News at eleven.'
I am a middle aged white man. This is my world. I don’t have to think about walking in it. I just walk.
I’m not rich. My kids complain about being “poor.” We’re not poor. My poor kids attend college, have good health insurance, good jobs. Because I married a white woman, my son is a young white man and can walk in this world. My daughter, by virtue of her sex, cannot. Her melanin count matters in all kinds of ways, as well.
One night, not very long ago, Trayvon Martin left his dad’s girlfriend’s apartment to get an energy drink and a pack of skittles. He may have been a little high. Trayvon was seventeen. He was a big brown boy, handsome and impulsive.
Seventeen year old boys are often impulsive. They’ll fly off and rip you a new one, telling you all about your stupid self and then later hug you like a ten year old. They’ll break your heart.
My seventeen year old son would have made it home that night. He’d have pulled back his hoodie and smiled at Zimmerman with his beautiful eyes. Zimmerman would have had a couple skittles. Zimmerman would have seen him as a boy. Zimmerman would have seen him.
One night, not very long ago, Trayvon Martin left his dad’s girlfriend’s apartment to get an energy drink and a pack of skittles. He may have been a little high. Trayvon was seventeen. He was a big brown boy, handsome and impulsive.
Seventeen year old boys are often impulsive. They’ll fly off and rip you a new one, telling you all about your stupid self and then later hug you like a ten year old. They’ll break your heart.
My seventeen year old son would have made it home that night. He’d have pulled back his hoodie and smiled at Zimmerman with his beautiful eyes. Zimmerman would have had a couple skittles. Zimmerman would have seen him as a boy. Zimmerman would have seen him.
[Read the entire article by clicking on the link below]
Another brown seventeen year old dies in Florida. News at eleven. | Dirt & Seeds
No comments:
Post a Comment