Dear Troublemakers,
February 5th would have been Trayvon Martin’s 28th birthday. It’s a strange occasion to mark as someone who did not know Trayvon, and yet his life and death has had such a profound impact on my life. I still remember the first time I heard his name. I was standing in my Chicago apartment, walking past my bedroom where my husband had the tv on. I peeked inside when I noticed a huge rally on the screen and Al Sharpton at a podium. Well known in the Black community for uplifting racial injustices, I paused when I heard her voice, wondering what happened. As I stepped inside to listen, my husband filled me in. A child was killed. The aggressor hasn’t even been arrested. This whole rally is just to convince authorities to at least charge the aggressor. Forgetting whatever it was I was about to go do, I instead sat on the bed, staring at the screen.
If you remember, at that time the nation was raging about “Stand Your Ground Laws”. And this care provided the fodder to determine whether or not Stand Your Ground would be applied equally to all people… or if this too would succumb to America’s history of double standards, unequal treatment, and the loophole that forever makes Black people the criminal.
Trayvon’s death was not my first aha moment of an unjust America. But the moment brought a searing clarity to the fears I long held for my brother, my father, my husband. This was the result we all feared. This is what remained unspoken when my husband grabbed his ID just to walk our dog. This is what remained unspoken when I stayed on the phone with my dad as he drove to the boonies for his job. This is what remained unspoken when I told my brother to text me as soon as he is home safe.
Safe.
We are not safe. What was a daily whisper in the back of our minds, suddenly became a roaring shout. We are not safe.
Now we had evidence of just how unsafe we are. Someone could assume a child is a thief. Confront him. Follow him. Attack him. Kill him. And no one would even be arrested. The levels of racism that it takes for all of those details to be true sent us reeling. Not because we didnt know. But because we couldnt turn away from the evidence of our knowing.
That moment and the moments to follow, changed me profoundly. I went from trying to “change hearts and minds” to speaking my mind. I went from graciousness being my highest aim, to truthfulness being my highest aim. In many ways the purpose of racial justice moved from my heart to my soul. It became a part of me.
And I choose to remember Trayvon’s life, every year, on his birthday. Because it feels weird to be so marked by its ending. I wasn’t there when he was born. Or when he had his first taste of chocolate cake. I wasn’t there when he had his first sleepover or went to his first school dance. I wasn’t there for his first crush or his first game or his first day of school. But I know they happened. I know his days were more than the racial injustice his name has become synonymous with. He was a seventeen year old kid with a sweet tooth. And he changed my life. But I want to honor all of him. It’s the least I can do.
What was the moment that irrevocably changed you? How do you honor that beginning of your story?
(Once a month I want to write you a longer post. This is that. I hope you enjoyed.)
A FEW LINKS FOR LEARNING + DOING…
LISTEN… to this interview with Ta-Nehisi Coates. It dare I say made me hopeful (and this was recorded the day after January 6, 2021, y’all).
TELL me… who / what you are learning this Black History Month. I’ve been posting about some of my favorites over on IG + FB if you want to check those out.
WATCH… if we’re going to be about racial justice that is going to include talking about (ahem doing) redistribution of wealth in this country. Check out this movie about the reparations work being done in Evanston, IL.
A WORD…
"A man who stands for nothing will fall for anything." - Malcolm X
Stay wild and holy and free,
Austin