When my children were growing up, they'd ask me if they could watch films like Dumbo. I'd let them watch the movie, but I'd interrupt their watching during scenes that were based on racist stereotypes. I didn't want to spoil the movie for them, but I didn't want my children to grow up unaware of the insidious nature of racism.
I wanted them to stay alive.
Maybe I've come close, but I don't think I've never given any of my children the kind of explicit advice that Jonathan Capehart's mother gave him:
"Don’t run in public.” Lest someone think you’re suspicious.
“Don’t run while carrying anything in your hands.” Lest someone think you stole something.
“Don’t talk back to the police.” Lest you give them a reason to take you to jail or worse.
As a father, I have tried to protect as best as I could from the evils of racism.
Sometimes, I know they thought that I was overdoing it. Maybe I did.
But now the killing of Trayvon Martin has brought racism home. Trayvon went to the same school as my children and my "adopted" children: Dr. Michael Krop Senior High School.
Trayvon Martin could have been one of my children. He could have been one of the young men in my neighborhood who play along with the deejays on "Power 96's “Black, White, Hispanic or Other” where the DJ’s will read out the details of a stupid criminal act and the caller will then guess the nationality of the criminal."
Trayvon could be one of the young men at the college where I work.
Trayvon was killed and his only "crime" was being black in America.
My heart goes out to Trayvon's parents. And there is nothing more that I can say. I can only grieve.
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