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Rating: 4 votes, 5.00 average.

A Quick Trip to the Convenience Store

Posted 07-17-2013 at 04:27 PM by MrSykes
Updated 10-31-2013 at 09:49 PM by MrSykes


When I was 14, I was suddenly intercepted by a pair of cops on the street on my way to the corner store one evening to pick up a few snacks and toiletries. I was wearing shorts and a black hoodie at the time, nothing out of the ordinary. The cops drew their guns at me, slammed me on the hood of their patrol car, cuffed me and did a full search. After asking them what was wrong, they responded, "Your momma didn't whip your ass enough that's what's wrong boy. Where's the weed"!? Seeing that I had nothing but a few dollars on me, they eventually let me go. Instead of an apology, they admonished me to "be more cooperative next time." (apparently I didn't have my hands up fast enough). I was absolutely mortified and thought I was going to die. Of course, had they shot me dead they could have easily made up a story about me being the aggressor, and most likely I would have been dismissed as just another black thug dead on the street who probably deserved it.

I go back to my 14 yr old self and am sobered by the fact that my life or freedom could have so easily been taken away on the mere basis of an assumption of guilt. The prosecutor's rebuttal argument just about brought me to tears, as he drove home the point that, yes, even young black men have feelings. We are human. We feel fear and pain. We have goals, dreams, and aspirations. We love. We just want to live freely without having to perpetually carry the burden of the wayward among us. I could have been Trayvon, but in a keen sense I already am. You never really shake that tinge of apprehension every time a police car trails you, or when you feel you are being watched/followed by security or even by someone who doesn't think you belong in their neighborhood. It's tough growing up having to struggle with knowing that some are automatically going to view you as a menace, no matter how much depth and sensitivity you have as a person. Truth be told it hurts, and while some may act out with outward resentment or even violence, most just suffer quietly in the shadows, hoping to someday, somehow, end this seemingly unending existential battle in which they find themselves naked, vulnerable, unwilling participants.

I had been praying that justice would be served in this case, for the sake of the future that Trayvon or his family will never get to experience, as well as all those other young, promising souls whose futures have been mercilessly robbed by senseless violence. But that has not been the case. Talks with my family have included leaving the country, as it seems that what many consider the "war on black men" in America has entered a particularly frightening phase. And let's face it: it is a war. The brute, soulless enemy that threatens to violate the peace and good order of America has pretty much been the standard portrayal of black men in this country since its inception. The soulless black man is a soldier unwittingly drafted into a war that he himself did not wage nor has the power to end.

Once you have been rendered soulless by others through a negation of your humanity, there is no compassion, no casting of the black man (no matter how upstanding) as a potential victim to the same social ills affecting everyone else, only the progenitor and perpetrator of them. There is no shock and awe at the sight of a young black man gunned down in the street or the news of him missing for four days, even if he was a straight-A student whose moral compass was at least equivalent to that of his white counterparts. Only cynicism. In many quarters, unfortunately, there is even the visceral and twisted conclusion that "well, if someone had to take the fall, it may as well have been him."

The threat of a black masculinity (even a relatively subdued one) evokes fear, aversion, and revulsion, much the way the presence of a harmless spider evokes the same in an arachnophobe. And it doesn't help of course that there are just enough legitimately loathsome characters out there to ensure the continued viability of this collective portrayal.

The frustration of many young black men likely stems from the black male identity being in a state of perpetual contradiction; you are expected to distance yourself from your less motivated and reckless counterparts while assuming responsibility for their character and behavior. You are expected to proceed, in the interest of individualism courted by mainstream society, as if you had a unique identity, resisting the temptation to pursue the world through a collectivist racial prism, all while being involuntary deputized as the spokesman for an otherwise voiceless failed black manhood, the ombudsman through which mainstream society can freely channel their anxieties, misgivings and brute indignation at a maladaptive culture they may never come into direct contact with, much less vent their frustrations to.

The psychological and spiritual toll this takes on black men can be debilitating. For some, the care and support from friends and especially the women in their lives helps to see them through. For others, there is no support. In any case, but especially in the latter case, the care has to originate from within; sometimes that is all you will have to keep you alive through the next day.
Posted in Uncategorized
Views 1197 Comments 2
Total Comments 2

Comments

  1. Old Comment
    "Once you have been rendered soulless by others through a negation of your humanity, there is no compassion,"
    Well done and the most intelligent comments that I have seen about the tragedy.
    permalink
    Posted 07-19-2013 at 09:40 AM by Fortoggie Fortoggie is offline
  2. Old Comment
    Thank you for reading. A lot I needed to get off my chest.
    permalink
    Posted 07-19-2013 at 11:26 AM by MrSykes MrSykes is offline
 

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