Watching a little boy get blown off his feet from gunfire while playing in the park did not ignite a collective outcry from our civilized society. The countless videos and reports publicizing a truth we have lived with since slavery failed to provoke any outrage leading to change. We want any man or woman who comes in contact with the law to be treated humanely and given their due process rights like every other American citizen. We want our babies to be treated like other children. It is a plea to have black lives valued like everyone else’s. All lives do indeed matter which is exactly the premise of the mantra for this movement. These senseless killings are a stain on our democracy. Much like what we witnessed in the recording of George Floyd’s murder, the temperament of one police officer, can determine whether they live or die. But these boys were not driving, they were playing in the park, walking from the store, and riding home from a party. Training them to remain calm, speak when spoken to, not to reach for anything, or make sudden movements is not a matter of guilt or innocence but of life and death. Black parents know well that preparing our sons to do whatever they are told when they encounter officers of the law is a part of our job. Black boys, perceived as threatening, and consequently killed for the color of their skin. Trayvon Martin, Tamir Rice, and Jordan Edwards are household names in our community.
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Despite their good intentions, interacting with police officers was terrifying to a black boy who has heard one too many stories about children, just like him, being gunned down by the very officers who are supposed to keep them safe. He hadn’t done anything wrong and these officers were aiming to be friendly by helping him to not get lost in the future. He got lost on his way home from school…” Before he could finish, my son plunged forward throwing himself in my arms and broke down sobbing in a manner that wouldn’t seem to make sense for what was happening. One of the men attempted to kindly explain, “Ma’am we found your son walking in the neighborhood. I remember opening it to find Johnnie standing with two police officers, his face wreaking of horror. As I waited excitedly for him to open the door with his new key, I was surprised by a knock at our front door.
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We had gone through his new morning routine together, and he was going to do the afternoon on his own. I will never forget my son Johnnie’s first day of middle school.