Let me send a heated glare to all who feverishly claim that President Obeezy being large and in charge at 1600 Penn somehow cured racism or excused centuries of mistreatment and hate. If anything, his campaign and presidency have exposed so much ugliness that many of us hoped was receding or at least buried under good manners. 'Fraid not. I don't even argue with folks when they try to tell me that the fervent hatespeak coming from the right is not racially motivated. I just double blink and mutter "You lie!" under my breath.
Does anyone really think the reason they don't let Obama expel a freakin' breath without testing the chemical compound of said oxygen is because of political differences? Really? But as if the FoxNewsDouchebaggery of it all weren't enough to convince you that racial hatred is alive and well in the great of US of A; I present to you the infuriatingly tragic tale of Trayvon Martin.
Trayvon, known as Trey, was a 17-year old high school student in Miami who loved horses and wanted to be a pilot. A few weeks ago, he went to visit relatives in Sanford, Florida. His relatives lived in a quiet gated community with a neighborhood watch and well-kept lawns. In the midst of enjoying some basketball on TV, Trey decided to head to 7-11 for a snack. On his way back, he clutched a bag of Skittles and an Arizona Iced Tea bottle.
He had the unfortunate luck of running into George Zimmerman, a 26-year old (Caucasian) captain of the neighborhood watch. George decided that something (could it be skin color?) looked suspicious about Trayvon and started following him in his car. See the scene unfold in your mind with me.
George calls 911 and reports a suspicious man inside the gated community. The dispatcher tells George to fall back, they are on the way and will handle it. George ignores this and got out of his car to confront Trayvon. In the next five minutes some sort of scuffle broke out. Next thing you know, Trayvon Martin is dead 70 yards away from his father's house from a 9-mm shot to the chest.
Now it's bad enough that Trayvon is dead. It's worse that a grown ass man with a permit to carry shot a child who was holding Skittles and tea. But it's dead ass wrong that the shooter claimed self-defense and is waltzing around free at this very minute. Self-defense? Was Trayvon (at 140 lbs) threatening to pelt him with Tropical Skittles? Did he wave the tea bottle around aggressively?
How in the entire hell is it 2012 with Obama in the White House and a black kid can be gunned down for being in a good neighborhood at the wrong time? Is this the modern day equivalent of "Reckless Eyeballing"? George even confessed to the shooting and I'm still waiting to see the Perp Walk. Where the hell is Nancy Grace on this miscarriage of justice? You can bet your last dollar that if Trayvon was the shooter and George was the victim, cameras would be rolling as "the perpetrator" was hauled off to jail.
I strongly rebuke people who claim that Trayvon should have been more careful walking in "that kind of neighborhood" - really? He wasn't playing loud music, he wasn't smoking a joint, he wasn't posseed up with five friends, he was walking back from 7-11 with snacks!
BougieMom and I are in a gated community. Last week, we were held up at the gate because the person in front of us didn't believe we lived here. He pulled his car to a stop and tried to bar us from entering the gates. When I held up the clicker to show I had access, he moved forward and then waited to see which garage we were pulling into. Now this was me and my 79-year old mother in a BMW - what the hell kind of nefarious criminality did he think we were getting into? We've lived here for five years, ya'll.
What's worse - not the first time it's happened. A few years ago, we pulled out of the garage and realized that we'd left something behind. I pulled over in front of the house and a car pulled up beside us. A middle aged white man rolled the window down,
"Can I help you?" He asked.
Mom and I exchanged looks. "I don't think so," I smiled and waved, climbing out of the car.
He climbed out of his car, "Are you here to see somebody? These are private residences." He probed.
My smile faded, "I live here."
His face went ashen, "Oh. Um. Oh. Have a good day." He got in his car and pulled off.
Mom just rolled her eyes and shook her head but I was hot. Like angry to the point where I went inside and had to do the deep breathing exercises "Woo-sah..." before I could get back in the car and drive. And don't get me started on the Obama 2008 sign we had in the yard. I kept putting it up and replacing it when it got kicked over... and over... and over again. When someone had their dog defecate on it, we took the hint.
My point is, please don't tell me that Obama was the magic cure for racism. The ish is embedded and passed down generationally like eye color and grandma's biscuit recipe. My question is - what are we going to do about it? For starters, we can slap George Zimmerman in some cuffs and carry his ass directly to jail on a murder rap... Just in case you have some free time, here's the info to holla at the Sanford, FL po-po.
BougieLand, what say you? What can be done to eradicate these kinds of things from happening? Anything? Will racism ever die? Isn't enough, enough already?