The media is saturated with the Trayvon Martin story as it should be being this took place back in February.  The blogosphere is bursting at the seams.  Facebook and Twitter are abound with pics., updates, and posts.  And I am late.  I admit, I’m not the best of bloggers.  As much as I love the craft and enjoy reading others’ work, I tend to be slow with opinion pieces.  Part of it is who I am.  Let’s just say I’m more of a sponge than a spout.  Most of all I have been imprinted with the belief of my late, great stepfather and that is, “opinions are like assholes, everybody has one.”  There are too many gray areas in life and in people’s experiences to pass judgment.  I choose not to be a walking asshole with an opinion, so I blog and speak as conscientiously as I can, which means at times I miss my chance to chime in and be at the forefront of a breaking story.

I’ve been reading many stories about this incident.  When I read articles, especially those about matters of injustice I try to stay away from the comments that follow.  Often times people rear their ugly heads and say things online that they would never say in person.  With this tragedy I’ve broken my golden rule and have indulged the comment section.  This time I think I need to see what people are saying, I want to know what they’re thinking, I am hoping that this time because we have a clearer picture of what happened with better view of intent, that we’ll all see how our hidden beliefs have an energy of their own and what the effects can lead to.

I am ashamed of my hometown state.  I shake my head in disbelief at the justice system.  I believe life in America for minorities is one in where you never know which trick you’ll need to pull out of the hat.  Sometimes race matters, and sometimes it doesn’t.  Race, navigating it, the opinions of, the stereotypes of, and reactions to it ebb and flow in the most intricate and many times confusing ways.  Within my own interactions, there are times I am African American and times I am not.  This might depend on what state I’m in, what city I’m in, what neighborhood I’m in, and ultimately which person I’m interacting with.  My children have sometimes been black and other times been considered “other” and ambiguous.  There are times they’re not even American, but East Indian, West Indian, Asian, Ethiopian, or Latin to name a few.  The subtleties of being a minority can be perplexing indeed.  Why has my teenage/young adult son never been stopped by the police, but my friend’s son has?  Why do I not get the cold shoulder in certain stores, but friends of mine have?  We all know the answers to these questions, or do we?  Whichever way you slice it if we look at the outside only and allow stereotypes too much power within our thoughts, my kids and I too could’ve been Trayvon Martin.  To accost someone based on a stereotype and opinion are preposterous and abhorrent.

As I read various articles all linked together, one begetting another I wonder what part do I play in this, for we all are connected.  What should I think?  How do I respond?  What can I do?  How do I raise my black children?  How do we win?  How does humanity win?  How do we teach humanity and tolerance?  Is this just a Black problem?  How do we engage all of America in a meaningful way?  This cannot be just a Black problem.

I don’t have the big answers.  I’m like every other poor slob.  Living the busyness of the typical workweek and wrangling children.  I’m consumed with my life and my problems, and it’s a struggle to come up for air.  There are many thoughts and view points floating around out there.  BlackSnob, I feel your frustration, exhaustion, anger, and pain.  Christy, navigating this terrain is very complex.  Which path will be the right one?

Everyone has a different experience.  We sometimes judge each others experience which never does any good because if something happened to someone, it did and that’s just a fact.  Some may try to poke holes in my beliefs, but for me and my family the solution is to be what we want our lives to look like.  It is to wake up each morning without a care in the world.  To not know that we are to think otherwise.  It is to do and go where ever we’d like.  It is to make friends with whomever we want regardless of their background.  To be open, to be free.  To have inner guidance based on whether our spirits tell us to go left, or right.  It is to have peace and trust life, no pretenses what-so-ever.  What do we do with the George Zimmermans of the world?  The best we can.  Pray for them.  Wish them enlightenment.  Have faith that they too can become something else.  Some of the issues black parents must be aware of and teach their children about society can be a lesson for us all, but to make race a burden and one isolated to blacks only is what helps the George Zimmermans of the world win.  Wisdom, discernment, common sense, self-respect, having a strong inner spirit with a fully intact instinct to combat and navigate hostile, or dangerous territory without the paranoia of race is how I plan to overcome.  To put a shadow over life, to be aware of, to prepare for the inevitable that is statistically and/or stereotypically going to befall my black children, my husband, and myself just because we are of color is giving George Zimmerman more control and power than I’d like.  I refuse to give the societal Zimmermans my spiritual and physical life and most especially that of my children.  I will eventually have “a talk” with my youngest son and yes, I’ve had “a talk” with my oldest son.  I call it “a talk” because it’s a modification of “the talk.”  No thank you George Zimmerman and all others who chose to put parameters around my life and the life of my boys based on our ethnicity.

Will this kind of thing ever end?  Will America ever heal it’s wounds?  In a perfect world the ills of Post-Reconstruction would’ve ended with the Civil Rights Movement, but stains do linger.  Psychosocial and subconscious beliefs take time to eradicate.  Being that eradication didn’t happen in one full swoop, can we ask that there be no more martyrs?  No more individual incidents to remind us that we still have work to do?  No more Trayvon Martins.  Yes, I agree President Obama, we do have to do some soul searching to figure out how something like this happens.  Your son would look like Trayvon Martin just as mine do.

Prayers and condolences to the Martin and Fulton families.