Over the past few days, I have struggled to put into words my feelings about the Trayvon Martin murder case. With each day, new information comes to light, and I find myself cycling through anger, grief, sadness and just plain befuddlement. Trayvon’s death was a stark reminder of what my parents were always worried about years ago, sometimes with me, but mostly with my brother. They would always say that the things our White friends could do and get away with did not apply to us and that we always needed to behave and keep ourselves out of trouble. Who knew that many years later, staying out of trouble would include not walking on a sidewalk with a hoodie?
By now, we all know the story: Young Trayvon Martin left his father’s fiancé’s house to get a bag of Skittles and some iced tea. While walking back to her house in this gated community of Sanford, Florida, Martin was gunned down by George Zimmerman.
The above excerpt was originally published in Essence. Click here to view the full article.
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Executive Vice President, Communications and Strategy