I am done with this planet. Somebody kill me.
An “unidentified entrepreneur” is trying to profit off of the Trayvon Martin tragedy by selling shooting range targets inspired by the slain 17 year-old. The target is reportedly shaped like a hoodie and features cross hairs on the front. A bag of skittles are tucked into the pocket, and the left hand holds a can of iced tea. As I’m sure you’ll recall, these were the only items Trayvon Martin was “armed” with when he was gunned down by George Zimmerman on February 26th of this year. The seller of the targets has made it very clear that although his aim is to make a buck from the tragedy, his sympathies are with George Zimmerman. From WTSP: “According to an advertisement for the targets that had been posted on a popular firearms auction website, the sellers stated they ‘support Zimmerman and believe he is innocent and that he shot a thug.’ (via Trayvon Martin-Inspired Shooting Range Targets Sold Online?!)
Fuck it. I’m done. I am fucking done.
Seems so underrated these days.
But you know what’s more underrated than reading? Comprehension.
I mean, as black people in America, we want to talk intelligently with people who wants to understand, but they got this thing called “guilt”.
Now, we are not saying “YA GUILTY!” we’re trying to say “ease up. This is how we see it. There’s racism within the structure of the American system. You must understand this simple concept in order to really know what’s what.”
But, I think all white people hear “GUILTY, YA SALTINE CRACKER!” It’s simple… read… let it marinate, then respond. So simple at times. I read a lot of things, and respond to it in a calm matter. But so many people wanna skip things you mention and hear themselves talk.
We’re not saying it’s YOUR FAULT that the system got this way. We’re saying it’s YOUR FAULT for keeping the system this way. It’s like no matter how hard we try, you defend yourselves. So, after about 400+ times (years), we sorta give up… and now white people wanna pay attention?
I could say something like “I don’t think taxes on income is fair”. I wanna talk about subjects like that. What y’all wanna talk about? “Why can’t I call you nigga?” Seriously?
And if you wouldn’t, then I don’t want you saying shit about Trayvon Martin.
I’ve had enough.
I know I said I wasn’t going to post anything tonight because I’m tired, but fuck that mother fucking noise. I have shit to say.
I said before that People of Color always have to provide proof. Proof of racism against us. Proof that we’re hurt.
Proof that we’re good enough.
Let a PoC die.
There will be so much fucking emphasis on their character. The first comments will always be white folks. “Oh, that’s so sad. BUT. What did they do to deserve it?”
“So tragic. BUT. Let’s not forget that they apparently stole something, once, according to the police who are covering up this murder to spare the murderer.”
“So sad. BUT wasn’t it said one time that they’re not a good student?”
And we always have to defend.
“They were a good student.”
“They were a good boy. Good girl.”
“They’d never hurt anyone.”
“They didn’t have a record.”
Like any of that matters. A person of color gets murdered for daring to walk around in the skin they were born in. And the only thing that matters is their character. And if their character isn’t good enough, then they deserve it.
We’ll rarely not “deserve it. It’s always something. Even if we have flawless characters, you will fight to find something.
“They shouldn’t have worn the house wearing this. They should’ve known it made them look like one of those lesser PoCs.”
“They shouldn’t have been so angry.”
“Well, what were they doing confronting their stalker in the first place?”
“They had no business hitting the man who tried to intimidate them with a gun, anyway! They were aggressive. Therefore, the killer was acting in self defense.”
A teenage boy. With candy and a sugar drink. Candy. And. A Sugar Drink. ASKS a grown ass man in a car why he’s following him. The man gets out of his car, holding a gun. This grown ass man with said gun approaches this boy. AFTER THE COPS TOLD HIM NOT TO DO IT. This boy may or may not have put up a fight—IS HE NOT JUSTIFIED?
TELL ME that if a man following you in a car got out with a gun, you would just stand there, all smiles and sunshine. TELL ME.
This man listened to this boy SCREAM. CRY. BEG. FOR HIS LIFE. And then he SHOT. THIS. BOY.
And you want to sit here and justify it by any means possible?!
The boy doesn’t have a receipt for his purchase. So suddenly, he’s a thief, and it’s okay that a teenager got murdered in cold blood at the hands of a man who had been given an order by the cops to NOT DO ANYTHING IN THE FIRST FUCKING PLACE?!
The killer claims that Trayvon hit him, and suddenly, it’s PEACHY KEEN AND TOTALLY ACCEPTABLE that this man stalked this boy and cornered him with a gun, and fatally shot him?!
We’re going to try and make this about how he shouldn’t have been wearing a hoodie in the first place?! Nevermind the fact that it MIGHT have been cold. He MIGHT have found hoodies comfortable. He MIGHT have needed something to carry the shit he brought for his LITTLE BROTHER, because he MIGHT not have felt like carrying a cold ass can in his hands.
YOU. WANT. TO. JUSTIFY. HIS. MURDER.
You want to know WHY you’re fighting so hard to say that it’s okay? You wanna know WHY you’re fighting so hard to cling to the falsehood of Zimmerman’s innocence? You want to know WHY you want to justify Trayvon’s murder?
BECAUSE YOU DON’T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT BLACK LIVES.
YOU DON’T REALLY CARE ABOUT US AT ALL.
OUR LIVES MEAN NOTHING TO YOU.
AND YOU REFUSE TO ADMIT IT.
So if you can somehow JUSTIFY that Trayvon’s murder is okay, you can feel good about your sociopathic self.
But here’s the thing. There’s nothing you can do to justify this. There is nothing! Because even if he did hit the man who was stalking him, it was Trayvon acting in self defense. If he did shoplift the candy and tea? It doesn’t mean he deserved to die. He was wearing a hoodie, and someone else perceived him to be threatening—in other words, someone had an opinion about the fact that he was wearing a hoodie on a brisk evening—does not give said person license to kill him.
There is no justification, and you are racist scum. George Zimmerman. The police who are trying to cover it up by changing the witness testimonies. The police who failed to do their jobs by not arresting Zimmerman. YOU, the person trying to justify this all away like there is any justification.
A man in a car is claiming to have felt threatened by a teenage boy in a hoodie carrying tea and candy.
Answer me this: Why the hell did he get out of his car, then?
How could he have felt threatened by a boy who was smaller than him, who did nothing more than beg for his life?
HOW was he “threatened” by that? Huh?
White people, y’all try so hard to rationalize why our deaths are okay. Why not just say it? You have no sympathy for our deaths. Not when the death is of a senior citizen. Not when it’sof a young mother. Not when it’s of a young man. Not when it’s of a thug. Not when it’s of a scholar. Not when it’s of a doctor, professor, soccer coach. Not when it’s of a child. Not when it’s of a baby.
Even if the PoC victim was a baby, you find some way to excuse the murder.
So why not just come out and say it?
You don’t care when we’re alive. You don’t care when we’re dead.
We already know.
So you might as well just say it.
A while back, I made a post talking about why I don’t want to have children, even though I want to have children.
One of the things I said was, “I’m scared that I’ll have a boy, and he’ll grow up, and the police will look at him and treat him like a criminal for no reason other than the fact that he’s walking down the street.”
Another thing I said was: “I’m scared that they might not even make it to their 16th birthday because a cop wanted to abuse their power while making snap assumptions based on the color of their skin. I’m absolutely terrified at the thought of my own kids dying or being brutalized because they happened to be in the wrong place with the wrong skin.
And ever since the day I learned of Trayvon Martin, I’ve been thinking about my own fear. I’ve been thinking about it in context of any children I may or may not ever end up having one day.
But more, I’ve been thinking about it in context of all of the Black boys and men in my life. Every little boy I passed on the street today, I wanted to hug. I wanted to pull them close and tell them that they were precious. That they were beautiful. I never planned to say anything to any of them. What ended up coming out of my mouth before I could stop myself was, “Be careful.”
Be careful. Because just walking home, carrying your lacrosse equipment could get you killed.
Be careful. Because playing dodgeball with your friends could leave you being the next face to not show up on the news.
Your skin is a target, and they’re watching your every move, waiting for the moment when they can pull the trigger and justify themselves for doing it.
Be careful. Because you can do just what a white kid would, but it’ll look like a threat because your skin is darker.
Be careful. You could die. And I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it if your beautiful, brown, smiling face were to suddenly be made slack because someone mistook your childhood innocence for a threat.
Just listening to the woman’s call to 911… all I could hear was Trayvon screaming. I couldn’t hear the woman, or the operator… just Trayvon.
And then that gunshot.
We heard his death.
We heard him die.
It feels like I was in that moment, and you could just see it happening so clearly in your head, even though none of us were there, because… I don’t know why.
But jesus. Those screams. And I finally listened to the woman and she just sounded so irritated and not caring. Her husband or whoever wanted to go investigate, and she sounded mad at him. Just…
We heard this boy die. We heard his murder. We heard it happen because it was caught on the roll of a 911 call tape. We heard his murder and we know it shouldn’t have happened, but the cops let him get away because the cops are racially biased, and it’s been revealed that they are. A racial bias lets white people get away with murdering ours.
And my heart is just breaking and I’m sitting here sobbing uncontrollably like I knew him even though I didn’t, but I did, and we all did, especially if we’re PoC. We all have someone. We all know someone. And even if we don’t, we’ve all lost someone who may have been a stranger but was still one of ours.
And now what? The killer gets away.
What’s one dead Black boy but a bunch of good for the rest of the white folks, after all?