I am Trayvon Martin

26 March 2012

We are separated by a generation, a thousand miles, and I haven’t worn a hoodie since I was an undergrad, but I am still Trayvon Martin…

when I am (still) followed around stores

when I cross the street at night before some random she has a chance to just so I won’t have to suffer the indignity of watching her jaywalking away from the dangerous me

when I hear doors lock as I pass near a car

when I am unfailingly polite to rude police officers because the consequences of not doing so are disproportionate

when I am routinely passed by empty cabs on the street

when I am reminded that my tailored suits and fancy education don’t really make me immune to the everyday slights

when I encounter (too goddamn frequently) the realization that the color of my skin is probable cause for suspicion

and I am Trayvon’s father when I delivered the “Talk” to my 20year old nephew who I pray will never have to give that talk when he is my age 


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