In the summer of 2013, I sat with my mother and younger brother in an Orlando hotel room, only 30 minutes from where George Zimmerman stood awaiting his verdict. As a 16-year-old black boy, I instantly related with young Trayvon Martin when I first heard the story of his lynching. The ever-told story of a black person moving through, inhabiting, or simply living in a space that was not designated for them. The one where the young black person “looked suspicious” or “like a criminal.” These instances and depictions are nothing new and from a young age, I was told that my behavior and image had to be different from my white peers. But when you are a kid, you always want to believe that authority, or the people who supposedly are in power to protect the innocent and deliver justice will do their job. That summer night, I believed, maybe naively, that Trayvon would get his justice and George Zimmerman would be convicted of murder. But my hopes and young confidence in our systems of power took a severe hit, and the children of the Trayvon Generation were born.
Disbelief was the first emotion that I can remember. Maybe I had not studied enough American history yet to understand that sadly, these instances of state-sanctioned injustice were all too common. At the time however, my young mind could not comprehend how a case that seemed to be leading to a clear-cut conviction of George Zimmerman led to him being acquitted and allowed to walk free. Our criminal justice system, which I believed would always allow the truth and justice to prevail had proven itself to me for the first time that this would not always be the case. For so many others, this was just another case in a long line of failures to protect Black lives. In my opinion, for many kids, teenagers, and young people, this was our first eye opening experience of the lack of value that is placed on our black and brown lives. We are forever linked to Trayvon Martin. We became aware and so many have been inspired to educate themselves and others, speak out, and bring attention to injustices that have been ongoing for hundreds of years.
I can remember asking my mom how Trayvon Martin’s murder could be justified as legal, and turning to social media to attempt to make sense of this case. I remember seeing the hashtag, #BlackLivesMatter for the first time on social media and the news, and feeling a sense of desire to educate myself in order to “catch up” to where so many people already stood. As I recall, I posted on Instagram, asking how in 2013, something like this could still happen. Sharing my disbelief, anger, and utter sadness with my peers for the first time caused me to want to continue bringing attention to injustices that people often scroll past as they go about their daily lives. So that no longer could our existence and our struggles be ignored. This Instagram post and this tragic moment in American history served as the beginning of my entry into educating myself and speaking out publically on issues of social justice.
I believe it is important to first acknowledge the foundation that brought me to my reckoning with race in America. When I look back on my experiences leading up to that point, I have to attribute much of my knowledge of black history to my parents. Both graduates of Howard University, an HBCU (historically black college or university), they made it a point of emphasis to teach my brother and I about the black history that we did not get in schools. In addition, we were lucky enough to get to travel throughout the United States, and once again my parents made an effort to enhance our trips with educational visits to museums and historical landmarks. They instilled a love of reading and coupled that with a constant search for knowledge that I couldn’t get enough of. I always loved social studies classes, but the only time that we talked about black people were slavery, a lesson on the Harlem Renaissance, and a brief class or two on the Civil Rights Movement.If this was all that I had learned about Black people and Black history, my perspective of the black contributions to the United States would be poorly limited. Instead, my quest for knowledge and learning led me to reading biographies, novels, and works of non-fiction about Black history.
My experience growing up in the schools and environments that I did were not unique, but my race always stood out in comparison to my peers. As a black person in the United States, you are taught at a young age either from your family or from society that your experience is different from the norm. Your parents give you “the talk,” that you have to work twice as hard, conduct yourself the right way and be conscious of the way that the rest of society perceives you any time you leave your home. I remember not being able to have the same freedoms as many of my white peers did, and not understanding why it was different for me. Why my friends in 6th and 7th grade were allowed to own and play with airsoft guns throughout the neighborhood and I wasn’t. I didn’t fully understand why my parents were so protective until I became old enough to recognize that stories like Trayvon Martin, Tamir Rice, and so many others could have been me. What a demeaning way to recognize the value that the society places on your life. On one hand, hopefully your family or people close to you were your first experience of understanding the different lives black and white people live in this society. But for many, they are not so lucky, and society often rudely opens your eyes to this twisted way of life. Be it a racial slur, racially charged incident that you experience or witness, or any other experience from society, you are told very quickly that you are not the same.
As I grew up and continued to move around the southeastern United States following my dad’s coaching career, I attended many different schools that all had one thing in common; They were not diverse. In other words, I was one of few black kids in the entire school and one of two or three in the classes I was in. Not only was I the new kid in school every couple years, I was the new black kid. I quickly learned how to navigate through these social circles, but I often faced some examples of overt racism, like being told almost on a daily basis that I’m an Oreo (black on the outside, white on the inside), or that I’m not really black because I do not conform to people’s stereotypes of how a black boy is supposed to talk, dress, and act, or even my white classmates casually saying the “N word” in various forms/contexts on an everyday basis.
Interactions where I was told that I shouldn’t be doing my homework on the bus to an away basketball game because, “black kids don’t do homework.” These stereotypes and behaviors even came from teachers and administrators, such as when my Third-grade teacher cancelled the reading competition our class was having after my winning multiple times, or my parents having to fight to have me placed into advanced or honors classes every time we moved, despite transcripts already proving my correct placement. These examples from my teachers and classmates are only a handful of racist incidents that occurred throughout my educational experience and life, but nonetheless, they were attempts to pigeon hole or limit my ability to achieve and stand out as a successful student. While words or statements can seem insignificant to some or just “one-off comments,” being subjected to these types of interactions on a daily basis can be exhausting and overwhelming. Always being the kid that is different and not like the rest forces one to remain closed off or confined to a smaller group of close friends. Grade school years are crucial in building a foundation for a child’s success. Things such as friendship groups, parental and teacher support, and success in the classroom and extracurricular activities all play a part in setting up a child to achieve highly. I was lucky to have parents with the ability to fight for my well-being in schools, but think about the kids who do not have those people. How do they get ahead when nobody, including teachers and administrators, is fighting for their success?
During my later years of high school, I began to explore using my voice and social media to spread information about racism in America both currently happening and in our country’s past. I was also in the midst of striving to achieve a lifelong goal of getting a scholarship to play division one basketball. By the fall of 2015, my dream became a reality and I enrolled at Bucknell University to pursue my degree and career as a college athlete. For me, like so many others, my college experience served as an awakening to the discrepancies between the things I learned in school and the real truth. I was now able to take classes covering a wide range of topics while also supplementing my learning in the classroom with other readings. In addition, I had the opportunity to engage in discussions about the things I was learning with very knowledgeable peers and professors. Still, I did not quite fit in.
Being an athlete on the small campus of Bucknell with more than 3600 students already causes one to standout, but at a PWI (Predominantly White Institution) with a 75% white population compared to a 4% black population, I was clearly not a part of the norm. As my knowledge, reading and learning all increased, I made it a point of emphasis to have discussions with everyone, including teammates and coaches, about race. These discussions often took place within the classroom or some other academic setting, but others involving my teammates and roommates sprang up after various racial incidents on campus and on a larger scale. If you have come to know me in the last few years, you would understand that social justice issues surrounding Black people and Black history are not new areas of focus for me. Police killings, different pieces of legislation that have been implemented, and impactful moments such as the 2016 election of Donald Trump sparked various conversations within my peer group. One ongoing discussion that my teammates and I had centered around hip-hop music, something we all appreciated and played daily in the locker room. The “N word” is very prevalent in hip-hop music, however it became very problematic for my black teammates and I to be at a party consisting of mainly white people and hear the “N word” yelled by a lot of people who were not black. It was and continues to be a frustrating experience. Not only do I hear the “N word” from people who will sit next to me in class and claim to me they’re not racist, but in the aftermath, we must continue to try and have a good time while watching other white people not call out their friends for saying something inappropriate and racist. After one of our very first but certainly not the last experiences where this happened in the fall of my freshman year, I remember talking with three of my best friends about their past experiences with this word. As all of them are white and had played basketball their entire lives, they were not surprised by this incident, and could remember other white classmates and teammates growing up using this word in songs or in conversation. The four of us were able to have such a deeply personal and uncomfortable conversation because we all knew that it had to be talked about. To call yourself a friend or an ally of a Black person, you must be willing to learn, listen, and have these difficult conversations. While they may not always directly impact you, this person who is important to you faces a life and experience that is different than your own. In understanding that and discussing the implications, not only are you creating a stronger bond, you are also preparing yourself to speak out against racism and injustice wherever and whenever you see it.
Over time, I became more comfortable having these discussions and speaking up about these issues that I was very passionate about. However, it was frustrating at times to have the talks with such a limited number of people. I was constantly putting information on social media, but not getting much feedback or conversation. For me, I felt like I had come so far, not only in the history I was learning, but in how to voice different issues and difficult topics to those around me. It was simple when I asked myself, “how could I justify not putting this information out there?” Knowing the information that I did, it was impossible to ignore the truths of what had happened and was happening in the United States, and I felt like everyone needed to hear these same truths. After being faced with America’s brutalities against Black people, I believed that my peers would see how appalling it was, be able to see how the history continued to impact current issues, and begin to demand changes as so many others had been doing for decades. The problem was that for a number of reasons, these messages were falling on deaf ears. However, when we fast forward and assess where we stand after the last few months of unrest and reckoning, the United States has been forced to confront and deal with issues of race and racism in our country.
People can no longer ignore ugly truths that have been shuttered away for so long. Instead of being able to turn off the news, or get off social media to go about your daily lives, the times we are in now are compelling people to face these issues and have discussions that will help begin moving this country forward. However, we are just starting. We still have so much work to do and so much farther to go. I don’t look at that as overwhelming or something to dread, rather I face it with excitement and a complete embrace of the unprecedented times we are living in.
As my family and I have been engaging in some inspiring discussions and debates, we have brought up the quote that so many people love to turn to: “If I were alive in the 60s (Civil Rights Movement), I would have marched and done what I could to help.” While the movements are different in their issues and tactics, we stand at a time of great potential for social change.
Every individual person has the ability to go out and learn for themselves. The information is there, be it books, documentaries, movies, podcasts, whatever media form you prefer, it’s out there. When I look at this moment we are in, I am brought back to that point in the summer of 2013, when that light turned on for me and I realized my positionality in America. I decided to not only committing myself to learning more, but refusing to remain silent. Raising awareness, having difficult conversations, or calling out explicit and implicit bias when I see it are all a part of speaking up and something that I view as essential to moving our society and country forward in a positive way. We all have a different perspective that we bring to the conversation, I hope that you recognize your value that you can add to help make a difference.
Photo Credits: Eddie Johnson