The Trayvon Martins, The Marissa Alexanders, The Danroy Henrys, The Emmett Tills

Jose VilsonJose4 Comments


I started out the morning with this …

Morning. Still in mourning.
Saddened by the situation that we were born in
People playing God with our kids’ lives,
It’s hard to see where the God is,
Or where your guard is,
Or where your heart is …
So now I mourn for all our Trayvons,
Searching for peace from here to now on,
How do we start this?
Start with our kids,
The Marissas, the Danroys, the Emmetts, the Yusufs …

But I let my thoughts swim a little more. I ache. I lose words easily. I disconnect readily. I rather not say. But here’s this:

To live in America as a Black person is often …

To live in perpetual anger as a result of society’s perception of you.

To see yourself misunderstood before you even step firmly into your environment.

To be assumed criminal, even when in expensive cloths and foreign wingtips.

To have your entire existence truncated to a supposition that, yes, you can rap, even as you sing through bars.

To feel as if nothing you do, can do, will do, is right, er, white enough, and to completely abandon yourself in the wrongness.

To look up and to the side at others re-re-re-explaining their position until yours becomes theirs, because your voice isn’t enough to whitesplain things away.

To look down at your son, still not privy to the not-so-secret secret, that anything within his possession can get him dispossessed.

His skin is society’s sunburn, like his, like hers, like his, like hers …

Just for tonight. Every night.


Comments 4

  1. This is also all about the crazy gun culture, that let some idiot own a ‘concealed gun’ license and literally go-after a lone kid. He had no reason to get out of his car and approach Trayvon … except he had a record of domestic violent abuse and assault and a concealed gun. And Trayvon was black and unwelcome.

  2. I almost didn’t go to this past monday because I thought someone was going to be silly enough bring up this case and I was going to have to say somethings that would have probably gotten me written up or fired. luckily enough my mostly conservative workplace was smart enough not to bring it up around me.

    nice piece of writing here sir.

    it is hard to put into words sometimes, the anger , the frustration the apathy that goes along with the slights this country’s institutions allow to befell minorities. What burns me more is the idea that we are seen as complainers when we raise objections to the way things are done. I think post racial america is the biggest joke that was ever told. People ask me when I am going to get out of Newark because they see it is a dangerous place, I usually answer such inquiries with the reply, if I have children because I will not raise kids around this chaos. However, in my opinion, i would rather deal with random acts of violence than deal with intentional acts of prejudice.

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