Trayvon Martin could be my son.
I have resisted writing about his story because it has been
beaten to death. No pun intended. Everyone has an angle on how he died or why
he died. Everyone believes they know what happened but the only two people who
will ever know what truly happened on that rainy night are Trayvon and George Zimmerman.
George Zimmerman lived to tell the story. His story. Unfortunately Trayvon did
not.
Every time I think of the confrontation that happened I get
sick to my stomach. Trayvon Martin could be my son. I think of my son walking
through a strange neighbourhood drinking an Arizona Ice Tea with a bag of
skittles. Minding his own business and trying to get home. I think of how scared
he would have been to have someone following him. Someone trailing him
particularly when he was not of that neighbourhood and did not know the people
there.
I think of the mind of a teenager and what could be going through
his mind at the time. Fight or flee. Stand my ground or get out of dodge. I
think of Trayvon Martin and all I can think about is the fact that he could be
my son. I feel the pain of his mother and his father. The pain of the pain of
losing a child in a senseless way. The only people knowing the truth of what
happened that night - Trayvon and George. One dead and one alive. Two strangers destined
to share a fate only the Universe understands.
I think about how scared my son would be if someone drew a
gun on him. I question if he saw the gun would he fight for his life or would
accept fate for what it is? I wonder if Trayvon died trying to live? I wonder
why his story has made national and international headlines when people are
killed each and every day. Why is Trayvon so special that he has created such
sensation in his death?
And then I saw a clip by Pastor TD Jakes that explained a
why that made sense to me. According to TD Jakes, sometimes the Creator chooses
people to become a catalyst for change. He said every so often God uses someone
else’s pain to galvanise us to help to recognize what matters and what is
important.
In other words, sometimes a person ‘s death becomes synonymous
of the society we live in and he becomes the martyr for the rest of us to
understand just how precious life is. Just how much we are all the same. How we
all hurt the same. Feel pain the same. How senseless it is that we judge each
other by our outward appearances when we are all the same inside.
Making me think of when Trayvon fell to the ground his red
blood spilled out of him as did the red blood coming out of the back of George
Zimmerman’s head. There was no difference between the blood spilled by Trayvon and
the blood spilled by George Zimmerman. Blood is blood whether it comes from a
black man, white woman, Asian child or Native American.
Yet one was killed because he looked different from the
people that lived in the neighbourhood and some believe one was freed because he
looked like the people that lived in the neighbourhood. When will we learn that
we are all the same and it matters not what we look like, how well educated we
are, where we live, or how wealthy we
are. Those things matter not because they are only temporary as are our physical
forms.
Trayvon may have been tried by the human judicial system
flawed by our human imperfections, prejudiceness and fear. But he will
forevermore go down in history as the young man who got people thinking about
how we view others. Got people thinking about whether gun laws need to be
changed. Got people thinking about the way the judicial system works or does
not work. He has been given wings to be greater than George Zimmerman who will
go through the rest of his life carrying the burden of what really happened
that night.
Trayvon was chosen to be the light in the darkness for the
rest of us. To help us to see just how one action can lead to an irreversible outcome when we fail to take the time to understand
where we are and what we are. Trayvon is the hero in his story. The story he
did not get to tell us physically but the story he chose to come here for us to
finish in his honour. To stop judging and blaming and to start accepting and
loving.
RIP Trayvon Martin. You have earned your wings. You could be
my son. And I will honour you for what you left behind for all of us. The
legacy of a young man struck down in his prime because of fear. Reminding me
always in the absence of fear there is only love… Namaste.
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