My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me ~John 10:27
This blog post is dedicated to the memory of Trayvon Martin. May your soul rest in eternal peace my young brother. ~Krusher Kronkite
Every single day of my life, I take certain precautions as a Black man regarding anyone wearing a badge. It is interwoven like the fabric of my genetics and absolute necessary in order to live and survive. Each evening returning home from work, I thank the Lord for bringing me home safely and kissing each of my children as they slumber in the comfort and safety of their beds and especially for my dear son.
The innocence of Trayvon’s eyes, reflects the innocence of my 14-year-old’s and the millions of Trayvon’s across the country. As a father, I pray for God to protect my child as we both share the potentiality to one day die at the hands of law enforcement every day in America inside and outside of our homes. I am overwhelmed by the support and condolences towards Trayvon’s family through social media, however the question remains. Did we Kill Trayvon Martin?
How many funerals do we have to attend? How many vigils and shrines will we visit? How many times we will allow our emotions to cloud our vision through rally’s and press conferences and offer viable solutions to this genocide of horrendous proportions? How will our young Black males survive, if they’re people out there that feel they’re aren’t even worth a pack of Skittles?
Yeah, I know everybody’s outraged and all. But give it a couple of months and things will be back to normal in the hood. In 2012, Rodney King is now considered child’s play in our community today regarding police brutality and the ambiguous scourge of profiling and racism. And despite living in a technologically advanced civilization, average citizens become guerilla journalists recording the most barbaric rituals courtesy of________________Police Department, Social Media, and through your favorite 4G phone. So just hit send to see how many hits you get okay?
We are obviously to blame because we neglect our families and worship false idols. We pay more attention to our wardrobes and customized cars and blatantly ignore our young boys that are hugging the block and slaughtering their own image full of rage and no sense of direction. How can we expect anyone else to value our lives, if we fail to educate our own seeds? Where is the outrage from the sacrifices of our ancestors and the malignant atrocities of slavery that transcends our generation of today? Does it matter if we have a Black president if we all can’t get the work done?
We are crippled by the grand illusion. We believe in burning candles,sending tweets, and Facebook posts and hoping this will all go away. Each day I drive an hour to and from work making sure to repeat the same ritual of touching my babies in prayer and kisses before I depart into the unknown. I have dog tags with a cross that dangles from my rearview mirror to remind me of His presence; as I press cruise control to avoid speeding, wearing my work badge for identification, keeping radio volume low, wearing my seatbelt, tying my locs back to reduce profiling, and avoiding direct eye contact with law enforcement in route to my destination.
Despite having a clean record,decent credit, and place of employment. I have pulled over by jakes, ever since I was a child riding my bike through the same town Whitney was buried in. I was a teenager when Yusef Hawkins was gunned down in ’89, by a White mob in Brooklyn. And forever haunted by the memory of a childhood friend that died in police custody under mysterious circumstances. So could we start the revolution by placing more value in ourselves instead of the people who use the word nigger, coon or any other derogatory term? The last time I checked, God didn’t make dirt but created it us from the Earth.
We shall be found guilty, just as long as our preachers lurk behind their multimillion dollar pulpits and politicians deceiving their millions of voters through million dollar campaigns. tragically, kids like Trayvon will continue to slip through the cracks by the parasitic and buried by our favorite neighborhood funeral home. We must govern our own children and take the necessary precautions of protecting our children by any means necessary and that means starting at home. We cannot afford to lose another child at the hands of beings possessing malevolent intent and power.
It will have to take more than the activism of Al Sharpton, the NAACP, and the transmissions of CNN to change the conditions in our communities, regardless of what tax bracket we fall under. Our Black male youth have become sacrificial lambs and we must take responsibility for sleeping on the job. Leadership begins with us and strategically designed to solidify our existence for future generations.
Several weeks ago , I was pulled over in the driveway of my home after returning home from work. Eager to shed my uniform, I illegally passed another vehicle and paid the price of being pulled over right in my very own front yard. I calmly exited the vehicle and spoke with the hulking 6ft. and tatted officer as he asked for my license. As he began running my information, we casually talked about tattoos and law enforcement. During our conversation he mentioned the K-9 in the back seat and jokingly said that he didn’t even growl as I nervously laughed breathing a sigh of relief.
Surprisingly, I only received a warning and sent me on my way to my front door several yards away. That evening as I open their bedroom doors to kiss my babies goodnight, I gave thanks to God for returning me home safely to my children. I also thank God for keeping my son safe, as he sleeps like the little boy and the innocence I will always see as a loving father in his eyes. Sadly, Trayvon’s parents and loved ones can only one place one last kiss upon their fallen angel lying in a casket and ultimately finding his way home to his Heavenly Father earlier than we anticipated.
I would also like to offer my sincere condolences to the Sharpton family and the loss of the multitudes of young Black men that have been taken from us and ignore by us. Who will be the next child? Going once, going twice……..
PS I Love You Pooter!