Sometimes I think my writing perspective is akin to those song lyrics "You're so vain, you probably think is song is about you. Don't you? Don't you?"
I have a way of internalizing things I see or experience. Saving objects to become my personal story. And I often tell myself...
"Queshia, write in a more general fashion. Everything does not have to relate your life."
Sometimes I succeed and other times there is no way I can figure to make a happening NOT relate to me or my experience.
So all weekend I knew what my Monday post would be about. It would mourn the loss of Trayvon Martin of Florida.
A 17 year old boy who was followed, accosted, and then murdered by the self-appointed Neighborhood Watchman, George Zimmerman. Trayvon wad walking to the store to buy Skittles for his baby brother. He never made it back.
I can't look at Trayvon's picture without seeing my sons. Cute little brown boys who like candy and wear hoodies just like Trayvon's. It was a simple grey hoodie that made him suspicious to George Zimmerman.
I still won't let my 10 year old walk one block alone to the store to get candy. Why? Because not only do I (unnecessarily) worry about the possibility of neighborhood bullies, but I am quite realistically scared of grown ass armed men. Cops and neighborhood watchmen alike.
I can't make this song NOT about me.
The funny thing is, there is no way to make my sons' look UN-suspicious to some people. To some (armed) people chocolate boys/teens/men will always look as if they are up to no good. Even when they carry nothing but a wallet or bag of Skittles.
Trayvon Martin is not the first child to be gunned down. Not the first black male to be slaughtered. Not the first innocent citizen to lose his life while minding his business.
Maybe I was wrong.
This song is not about me. It's about our young brown boys who are walking while black.
If you would like to sign the petition to bring the shooter to justice, please click here.