We Are Not Trayvon Martin

[wearenottrayvonmartin]

This is a film about the collective voice we share. We may not be Trayvon Martin, but we understand that as long as current Stand Your Ground laws exist, what happened to Trayvon will keep happening. Excerpts taken from http://wearenottrayvonmartin.com/    #NotTrayvon

[wearenottrayvonmartin]

i am not trayvon martin but my son could be...this is me and my youngest child. he is a child. a 15 year old boy who plays video games and basketball and likes to hang out at the park with his friends. he’s 6’5" and almost 200 lbs. if you saw him at night, in the rain, in a hoodie...would you be scared? would you call the police on him? follow him? kill him? or will you think of this photo and remember he’s my child, he’s just a kid and you have nothing to be concerned about. don’t judge. don’t assume. don’t hate.

[wearenottrayvonmartin]

We are not Trayvon Martin

My fiancé is a 38 y.o. Hispanic-American; I am a 31 y.o. Asian-American. We are not Trayvon Martin. But we could be. And it terrifies and saddens me to know that our children could be. Texas is a very diverse state, but it is a red state through and through, and we are still living in the South. Guns and the Castle Doctrine here is absolute.

My fiancé grew up along the border surrounded by other people that looked like him. He wasn't followed around his neighborhood or local stores for looking suspicious - he looked like everyone else. He used to ride his bike through the halls of the nearby elementary school after hours to avoid riding in the street with cars; no one ever stopped him or questioned him or arrested him.

I grew up in a suburb of a sprawling melting pot metroplex. There were many people who looked like me where I lived and went to school. There were many different people where I lived and went to school. My school was likely the most diverse in the district at the time. But we were still followed through stores at the mall; managers sent their employees to watch us for shoplifting; mall security kept a close eye on us "thugs" if we were in groups larger than three. I have been on the receiving end of many pointed looks, scathing glances, and whispers behind hands for daring to date the white boy, or the black guy, or "that Mexican kid."

We live together now in one of the largest cities in the country. We are college educated. We are lawyers. But I cannot count of those facts to save our biracial future children, if they are walking home through a neighborhood where "they don't belong" because of the colors of their skin. I cannot stop the next vigilante if he chooses to target my children. They will be neither White, nor Black, nor Asian, nor Hispanic; they will be Texans, Americans, children of the world, and I foolishly, naively, and fervently hope and wish and pray that one day they (and all of us) will be seen as such.

[wearenottrayvonmartin]

Co-Chair, White Aspiring Allies to People of Color (WAAPC), New Jersey Coalition for Battered Women

We are not Trayvon Martin.

We are a group of educated, middle-class, mostly middle-age white men and women who sit daily in a place of privilege based solely on our skin color.  We are advocates who work to end domestic violence and we work in a field where communities of color are often underserved.  We hold one another accountable to keeping ourselves open to discovering new ways in which we hold privilege besides our whiteness, which alone permits us entry into everyday turnstiles of power and ranking by race.  We collectively work together to find ways to bring awareness about and change to the societal institutions which are affected and infected by racism and oppression.

We are not Trayvon Martin's family.

We empathize with the pain and terrible loss his family is suffering from and acknowledge that when our husbands, sons, nephews and grandsons walk home from the store that they will not be stopped, harassed, beaten or killed because of the color of their skin.  We send our children out into the world daily and never have to worry about giving them special instructions or safeguards based on their whiteness.  We do not have to have conversations with our children about what to wear so they are not seen as gang members nor do we have to warn them about where it's not safe to drive or walk because of their race.  We do not have to tell them to keep their hands visible if they are approached by adults, especially if the adult is a law enforcement officer or a member of our Neighborhood Watch nor do we have to talk to them about how to handle the constant discrimination and profiling they will face due to the color of their skin.

We did not kill Trayvon Martin.

Even though we did not participate in the death of Trayvon Martin nor did we sit on the jury which found George Zimmerman Not Guilty,  we are a part of the institutional racism that perpetuates the fear of the young black man.  We are saturated in white privilege and benefit daily from the institutional racism that made his death and the not guilty verdict possible. We are part of the "system" that allowed a jury of 100% women and 0% African Americans to sit in judgment of a white man accused of killing a black man.

We are not Trayvon Martin.

But we are left behind to work diligently to understand how this kind of tragedy continues to happen in communities we share with our brothers and sisters of color.  We cannot know the experiences and trauma experienced by people of color in the US but we can talk to other white people about the racism that still exists and how our silence perpetuates it.  We can take action when we witness acts of racism and work to change the institutions that keep it in place.

We are not Trayvon Martin and we cannot change our whiteness but we can make a commitment to work towards stopping racially based violence in our communities.

[wearenottrayvonmartin]

Looking Deeper

I have seen multiple people make statements or posts on my FB page questioning why the Martin/Zimmerman case has had such high level of focus in the media and other criminal cases involving a white victim and black perpetrator have not garnered the same attention. And most of the “reverse examples” used have been in crimes where there was breaking and entering involved so not really an apt comparison, I don’t think.

It seems to me that the only people really questioning this are white. And already shows a lack of understanding and/or awareness of a common African American experience.  And I am not saying I fully understand or am aware of it because I know I do not or am not.  Still it seems we as white people should do our best to understand what we can.

Even if my analogy is not an adequate comparison, it seems an analogy might help seeing a viewpoint we might not normally see.

If you are willing, think of someone you have felt abused, betrayed, or otherwise hurt by once or (more aptly) repeatedly in your life.  How long did it take for you to not feel angry anymore? Were you able to forgive?  Were you able to forgive even without a formal apology from the person who made the transgressions?  Could you forgive even if he/she didn’t apologize? And if the person couldn’t see how they hurt you or refused to own up to it, would you ever trust him/her again?  Even if the person did make a heart felt apology how easy would it be to trust him/her again?

 How difficult would it be for you to forgive and not be somehow defined by someone beating you, saying degrading things to you on a daily basis or worse- killing or abusing your children or other family members.  If you felt worn down, full of grief, hopeless how long would it take for you to heal and be able to bring full positive energy back to your life again?  How long would it take you to heal if the wound was never allowed to close but instead the scab was irritated, continuously infected and/or rubbed off before it could ever completely close?

I can tell you that as a Jewish woman (even though I am non practicing now) that Jews will never “forget” being enslaved in Egypt and never “forget” more than 6 million exterminated in WWII, and that we hear derogatory disparaging comments regularly about Jews.  I have certainly heard my share not to my face but  maybe because I don’t “look” Jewish people might think it’s ok to say certain things around me without fear of being offensive.

When I was 25 years old I sat next to a young black man who was about my age.  We chatted for a couple of minutes about the usual stuff passengers sitting next to each other on a plane might; “Where are you headed?  Do you live there or are you just visiting,” and so on.  After only about 2 minutes of this, he said,” I can tell you have friends who are black?”  “How?” I asked.

“Because you look at me with an open expression on your face.”

His comment instantly stunned and saddened me.  To think that 70 percent of the population that surrounded him looked at him with something of resistance, negativity or worse -fear, disgust or hatred.

In my early years in High School I thought racism was already in the past and no longer active in this country.  How naïve I was.  It was very important to my parents to teach my brother and I that everyone is equal (not the same) but equal and deserved to be treated fairly, ethically and respectfully regardless of gender, skin color, sexual orientation, religious beliefs, financial status and so on.  Aren’t those some of the qualities that people uphold about what’s great about this country? If it is not the truth, not the reality of how all of the inhabitants of this country are treated but those characteristics are still upheld as vitally important wouldn’t you want to make it true?

How can we heal this deep wound if we don’t collectively recognize that the prosperity of this country was birthed out of the genocide of sovereign nations that were here first and through slave labor from the African slave trade? 

And some might respond that that was so long ago and we have come a long way from then and we have a black president now (or more accurately biracial). Why are we still talking about this? 

We are still talking about this because the original wounds have continued to be aggravated.  Certainly a victim should not rely on the perpetrator to complete a healing process.  However, it seems to me healing can occur much faster when and if a victim can confront a perpetrator and the perpetrator is able to do some soul searching and at least admit to the act, transgression or crime. If the pus of a deep infection is not allowed to drain, to be cleaned out daily, it can easily fester.  If a family member had an infection wouldn’t you want to tend to it regularly and gently?  I have heard some people say that some kinds of amends have been made: the right to vote, affirmative action and social welfare programs. To me these are not the same thing as an open apology and they certainly are not equivalent to making amends. Amends go beyond trying to make the playing field even, they return what was taken if possible and if not possible they give something back that could be considered equivalent.  The US government will never give the land of this country back to the remaining Tribal Nations, it can never return the torn apart and dead family members back to African families.  I have no idea what could be considered equivalent, but I do know that continued fearful attitudes that  promote paranoia and contribute to violent actions just seem to perpetuate the lack of trust and a holding pattern of unnecessary violence.

I read an essay on a different blog that also had what I thought was a great analogy.  It used a baseball game as an analogy.  That if at the beginning of the game the rules were different for each side such that the rules always benefited the yellow side and constantly put the green side at a disadvantage.  Then in the middle of the game the yellow side realized how unfair the rules were and made the rules the same for both sides but the score was still in favor of yellows how likely would it be for the greens to catch up or even win if they had been so weakened and put at a disadvantage for so long?  It has only been 50 years since the civil rights movement in this country and that is juxtaposed to the Atlantic slave trade that went on for nearly 500 years.

And I am not suggesting that crimes committed by black people are somehow excusable because of the painful history but that certain things should be looked at more deeply.  If you’ve ever had a bad habit that you’ve wanted to change, it usually requires some deeper awareness of the psychology involved and a willingness to do something different in order to become successful in changing the habit.

I have even heard a few of my friends who are involved with a spiritual community (mostly new age kind of spirituality) focused on the truth of our oneness as human beings and with all life make derogatory and/or prejudicial comments about African Americans or Latinos. In most instances I have called them out on it and asked questions so they might look more deeply into their negative stereotyping.

I believe the discussion of racism and how we are all impacted by it should and will continue until true healing occurs.  And those of us who see people as equal and are passionate about the importance of people being treated with basic equality and respect will continue to do our best to understand and bring understanding in the ways we are able.  If you say you care about humanity and care about making a better place for your children- for everyone’s children wouldn’t you want to do your best to understand. And that often requires a discussion.

If you have a fight with your spouse or partner and don’t discuss it, the feelings from the fight would have a hard time being cleared.  If you care about your country wouldn’t you want to be a part of the conversation to do what you can to help clear the pain?

Again, I am not saying that black people have no part in this healing process  and that it’s all on white people to mend, but white people were certainly the initial instigators of a certain way of thinking toward people with darker skin as "less than", as “savages” and/or in some ways as not even human. And you might say, “Well African culture utilized slavery for much longer but from what I understand most of it was closer to an indentured servitude situation that ended after certain debts were paid than how slaves were largely treated in this country.

I do think we need to look much deeper and come to terms with the now often subtle unconscious ways these perceptions are perpetuated.

[wearenottrayvonmartin]

I am not Trayvon Martin. Neither is my little cousin with me here at Christmas dinner. As a child, I was never targeted or criminalized based on the color of my skin. In school, I was never subjected to disciplinary measures such as suspension (even if I broke the rules) or treated with suspicion by the school's mostly white teachers and administrators. I was assumed to be a "bright" kid and treated like I was "going places" even by adults who barely knew me. My 9 year old cousin, a fierce and outgoing girl, is treated very similarly.   

As a woman and a queer, I struggle- struggle to be taken seriously, to be valued and acknowledged like my male peers, to be heard and seen.  But I, like the other white folks in family, will never be targeted by people like George Zimmerman. We will never be predated on by police or railroaded into prisons by the courts. Our resume will never be overlooked because someone thinks we have a "ghetto" name. If someone walked up and murdered us on the street, Fox News would see us as victims, not "delinquents".

I am so sorry to Trayvon Martin and his family, to Ashley Williams and her family, to Troy Davis and his family, to Marissa Alexander and her family, to Emmett Till and his family, to the four little girls murdered in Birmingham in 1963. And I believe we can -and must- make the insanity of racism come to an end.  

[wearenottrayvonmartin]

WE are Trayvon Martin

[wearenottrayvonmartin]

I am not Trayvon Martin.  I am the mother of five boys.  My sons range in age from 1 to 16 and any one of them could one day be Trayvon.  Any one of them could leave the house and never come back; any one of them could be snatched from me in one horrifying moment.  Any one of them could die on a rainy night, alone, on a sidewalk just minutes from our front door.  It could happen.  It has happened so many times before. 

I hope to never know the agony Trayvon’s parents know.  But, I am not naïve; I know all too well how easily one of my boys could be in a situation just like his; how, in one tragic moment, everything could change, forever.

When Trayvon’s story first became news, I sat my older boys down and gave them a talk.  It is a talk the parents of black sons have been giving for far too long – don’t run, show your hands, make it clear you don’t want any trouble; submit, submit, submit….  All this time I had told myself that I was raising men and here I am telling my sons to be afraid; teaching them to cower.  This is not what I intended.  And, yet, here we are.

When Barack Obama was elected in 2008 I woke my kids up the next morning and I told them, “The world is a better place than it was when you went to sleep last night.  Last night, we made history.  Today, I am proud of the country we live in and you should be too.”  Telling them about the Zimmerman verdict felt like a retraction.  How can I be proud of a country where the death of someone’s child goes unanswered; where but for the media scrutiny, his killer would never so much have seen the inside of a courtroom?  What is there to be proud of here?  How can this be the same country that not five years earlier elected its first black President?

That day, the day I had to tell my boys that Trayvon Martin’s killer was acquitted, I committed to doing what I can to make a difference; I will not cower, I will not submit; I will not accept that this is just the way things are.  I will not see racism and say nothing; I will not tell myself that it isn’t my job to cure the ignorance of others.  I can no longer avoid having those tough conversations; I will not.  I will not rest until my boys can leave the house without being afraid.

[wearenottrayvonmartin]

When I first heard about Trayvon being shot, I wasn't as shocked. It isn't the first time I've heard about a young man being shot and killed. But when I heard about why he was killed, by this 'Neighborhood Watch' enthusiast who didn't listen to the dispatcher on the phone, I was astounded that this man wasn't thrown in jail to begin with! A CHILD! Not even old enough to drink. Not even old enough to experience life, and it all ended because a man wanted to handle the law himself.

I am not Trayvon. When I was growing up, I lived in Colorado near the boarder of Utah. I was too young at the time to understand what was really happening around me, but it wasn't a town to live in if you were not white. A man, when I was either 4 or 5, drove by our house, and came back by again and stopped in front. He yelled from his window at my parents, while my sister's and I played outside, that "Prairie-N*****s aren't welcomed in this town". He drove off quickly, and my parents took us inside and called the cops. My father is white with a small amount of Native American (Ojibwe) that isn't even considered high enough to the Government standard for determining Blood, and my mother is 7/8 Oglala Lakota, but we get Irish from both sides. They tried their best to explain to us what had happen, and told us to play in the backyard from now on, unless they're with us.

My older sisters joined the Girl Scouts, and they were never invited to go over to other girl's houses at the end of the group gatherings. None of the other mothers wanted to invite non-white girls over. There were three Hispanic girls at the start, but they soon turned in their vest. I had a friend in elementary school, who invited me over after school one day, and her mother said I had to leave. She never gave a reason why, but I walked back home and told my mother about it. My mom said for me not to worry about it, their house was probably just too messy for guests. The next day, my friend told me we couldn't be friends because her mom said so. Was it because I was too dark? I don't know, and I don't think my friend knew either.

 Third grade a little boy tried to do a war cry and called me a 'Squaw when I walked by him. "Squaw" is a derogatory term towards Native women, in particular, because it refers to their genitals. I was raised to be proud of my ancestry, be proud of being a Native American! So I beat him up. I was suspended and almost kicked out of the school because of it. The Principle at the time didn't think him doing a war cry and insulting me warranted him having a broken nose and losing a tooth. She tried to tell my parents that it was just a name, and a name has no meaning. My dad was furious. He asked her what race she was. She responded with "I'm part German, and English." And my dad said, "Well then, you don't mind me just calling you a Nazi then." She was so caught off on being called that, she said "You can't call me that!". And he just let her know, "You said it's just a name. A name has no meaning." I was just suspended for a day, but had detention. The little boy had to serve neither charges I had to.

My parents told my sisters and I that we would face racism from our own race too. "Full bloods" of our tribe aren't too friendly about "Half-breeds". I'm not saying all of them are that way, but ask anyone of them about their feelings toward us, and they won't be saying anything too nice, because that's how they're taught to think from the older generations. My own extended family on my mom's side; my oldest sister, who is just a half sister, doesn't like my sisters and I because we are part white; my uncles and their children were raised to dislike us, and we've never met. My dad's side is no different: my grandma called us her "Little Indians", and continues to say racist things and just pretends that nothing is wrong with it; one of my dad's sisters won't ever invite us over because she doesn't want her neighbors to see us. My grandfather from my mom's side passed away a few years back, and at his funeral, my family wasn't well received, even though we were his granddaughters. 

I grew up around bigots, and racism. I continue to have to live around it every day. I cut off any ties with any family members that aren't my parents and my two sisters I grew up around. I'm afraid to have any kids because I don't want to be ashamed of how divided my family is because my parents fell in love. I'm afraid that they won't be accepted because they are Native American. I'm so tired of seeing and hearing parents telling their kids racist things. Telling them to be afraid of people who are too dark. Telling them that if they're light-skinned, they are prettier, they are happier, or that they are better off in life.

My middle school science teacher made a snide remark and told me I wouldn't get far, being as dark as I was. And that's so pathetic. Pathetic of her to say something like that to a child. To say something that a child will believe because she is an adult, she knows more. She should have known better, but I know better now. Just because she's was born in a generation where racism was 'OK', doesn't make it right. It will never be, and never has been, right to be that way. People should be ashamed. Ashamed that they could say that because Trayvon was black, he was probably deserving of what Zimmerman did. No one deserved to die over walking home. No one should have to be profiled because of their skin color, or their gender. I would have done what Trayvon did. I would have fought back. I would have protected myself from the predator that was Zimmerman. 

He ruined his own life, when he took Trayvon's. He ruined a family's life, because they'll never be blessed with that child's presence. It makes me sick to think of bringing another child into this world, just for this cycle of hate to continue because I'm not the only teacher my child will have in their life. Just like I can't protect my child if they're walking home with Skittles and tea, from a man wanting to harm them because he thinks he's the law.

[wearenottrayvonmartin]

We need to care

Just learnt on Huffington post of this mvmt. I am black, I do not live in the US but as a black outsider looking on its time that all Americans get real and face the elephant in the room. Having a black President has not suddenly righted every racial wrong. It's naive to not have an open conversation. Protests in the form of these " I am not Trayvon Martin" activities will go a long way in really dealing with this issue. Times have not changed sufficiently , but they certainly aren't as awful as before and now might be the best time to have a real conversation about something that is not changing fast enough. The continued dehumanising of black ppl is an outrage to blacks everywhere, to humanity. Everyone needs to see our hurt as their hurt if all of us are to be better. It's just plain wrong that a whole race of ppl have been marginalised by instituitionalised behaviour. The non trayvons of this country must continue not be Trayvons, it could very well be the catalyst for change.

[wearenottrayvonmartin]

We Change Our Future Today

Everybody, let’s take a deep breath, and on the count of one…two… three...exhale.  This past year, I have seen an increase in emails wanting to know if I still believe racial harmony is achievable especially in light of the fatal shooting of seventeen-year-old African-American high school student Trayvon Martin and his shooter’s acquittal. Like many of you, I see the similarities between this case and Emmett Till, the fourteen-year-old murdered in 1955 for whistling at a white woman. Both were in their teens, black, and blamed for their own deaths by violating America’s racial rules. When I was nine years old, my father sat me down and said, “Linda, the world does not like our skin color.” In an instant, my confusion turned into grief when my father pushed a copy of Jet magazine into my hand, and I looked down at the gruesome post-mortem photo of Emmett Till.  I can still hear my father say that not all whites were like the people who killed this boy and how I would realize that as I lived my life. Now, mind you, my father wasn’t being cruel; he was just doing what millions of black parents have been taught to do—prepare their children for the inevitable experiences of racism. My father was a wise man.

According to the July 2013 Pew Research survey on the Zimmerman trial, 60 percent of whites thought the trial focused too much on race while 78 percent of blacks thought this case was about race. Within hours of Zimmerman’s verdict, my emails tripled with people asking if whites and blacks were doomed to be enemies. The numbers may seem discouraging to you, but remember, we are a people in transition.

These two tragedies are proof that we are slowly shedding and separating from our outdated, familiar racial patterns. The lynching of Emmett Till galvanized blacks to seek equality and social change. Trayvon Martin inspired people of all races to unite and speak out for justice.  Fortunately, tragedy needn’t be the only path to societal transformation.   

Our society’s racial beliefs were formulated before the nineteenth century. No wonder we can’t get on the same page; whites and blacks are communicating with an outdated system! Can two people communicate when one uses a cell phone while the other uses a string and cans while standing ten miles apart? It’s impossible. Both groups are feeding off each other (anger hate, disillusionment), which, unfortunately, strengthens and perpetuates more racism. Sixty percent of whites unable to recognize the injustice and 78 percent of blacks outrage over whites’ inability to recognize the injustice done does not cultivate good feelings. Instead, the desperation, anger, and outrage increase exponentially. These attitudes only create a stronger negative racial frequency. A racial frequency, or vibration, is energy, similar to a radio signal. Every mood or feeling we have about race emits a positive or negative frequency which matches up with a similar one and boomerangs the energy back to you in the form of experiences. Which frequency do you think we experience more as a society? The negative frequency—because it’s familiar.

So what do we do to unplug from this way of thinking?  First, stop the blame, and then keep digging for the source of your negative racial beliefs. They came from somewhere—either your own past or from someone from a previous generation.  My book, Good Race Vibes, is an excellent place to start. It will show you how to eliminate deep-seated hurt and pain.

I am reminded of what Emmett Till’s mother, Mary Till-Mobley, had to say: “My son was a sacrificial lamb, he was sent to play a special role and I don’t think he died in vain.” And I’m convinced neither did Trayvon Martin.

Envisioning the best,

Linda C. Thomas

(This article was previously published on her site at www.gooodracevibes.com.)

Linda C. Thomas is a social visionary who is passionate about redefining the white and black relationship.  Her book, Good Race Vibes: Everything You Need to Know to Feel Good About Race, is the first book to address race without anger or blame. She lives happily in Ashland, OR.

[wearenottrayvonmartin]

I am not Trayvon Martin, but I feel terrible for his family, because he was just an innocent kid who was killed because of his skin color and how he was dressed. I'm Jordan and I am also an African-American male, just like Trayvon.  I am 11 years old.  I was angry when I heard the verdict because none of the jurors were from another culture, they were all Caucasian.  I wanted to hear different cultures' perspectives on the events. I try to make a concerted effort to not judge people by their culture or ethnicity and I also try to treat all people equally.  If the jurors didn't stereotype or think that all Black boys who wear hoods are thugs, and they cared about Trayvon the same way they do about Caucasian boys, Zimmerman would have easily been sentenced...no questions asked.

In my lifetime, I hope that I will never witness or hear about another case like this worldwide. This case should be a lesson to America, and to the world,to show that we can all make a difference by listening to others' perspectives and by not stereotyping each other, just because we're darker or lighter than each other. 

[wearenottrayvonmartin]

I am not Trayvon Martin

I am not Trayvon Martin.  I am a white 16 year old girl.  I have had every ounce of racial privilege there is.  I get waved through the metal detectors rather than the full scans at the airport, even though I am not what anyone would call a frequent flier.  If I am walking alone at night, I am more likely to be asked if I'm lost than asked what I think I'm doing out so late.  People hold open doors, help me carry my load, make eye contact when they see me on the street.  And for many years of my life, that's all I saw.  Not until I began to realize I was a lesbian did I begin to see what most people were treated like, even in casual conversation. I began to see what other people had lived with everyday of their lives, and I did not like what I saw.  But I also have the luxury of keeping a secret.  When I find a situation I am uncomfortable in, or one I feel like I won't be accepted for who I am (which frankly, is most, I'm only out to my close friends and I'm submitting this under a fake name), I can shove myself easily back into the closet and keep quiet.  Trayvon had no closet to hide in, no way to make sure that others would not judge him for the way he was born.  I can still avoid societies harsh judgments if I want to, Trayvon had no way to do this.  Here's to Travyon's memory, and may he rest in peace.  And also, may there be a society in which society can do away with profiling, and so no one feels the need to hide. 

[wearenottrayvonmartin]

Seeing Racism in Action

I have experienced racism. I am Chinese-American even though I am of mixed descent (35% white). I have joked about being a partial WASP to both my non-white and white friends. We have poked fun at racial stereotypes and used them on ourselves. I have simultaneously stood at the fringes of white privilege and also been enveloped into it to see how it works. But I know better than anyone that I am lucky. I will never experience the full force of racism because I am not black. 

I attended Cornell University for college, one of the eight Ivy League schools. People assume if you are either black or Latino, you were accepted because of affirmative action. Then people also assume you are on heavy financial aid or you are illegal. And if you are in pre-med or engineering, people will make the snap judgement that if you will drop out or switch to an "easier" major because you do not deserve to be there and you are not smart enough.

During my final year at Cornell, one of the fraternities on campus started throwing glass bottles at a group of African-American students walking by, calling them the N-word, making racial slurs, and mocking them. Campus police became involved, I filed a police report because I was a witness, and I patiently waited to hear what the university would do.

But at the end, only a slap on the wrist and a warning was giving to the fraternity and the instigator (who was very conveniently not a student and also from Florida) was banned from campus. Despite outrage and anger, the fraternity's charter was not revoked or disbanded. 

I marvelled at it all as I sat across the street with a friend watching this occur. How could this happen? I wondered. We often assume that being college educated means being intelligent and cognizant of what is right and wrong in this world. We assume that racism is close to eradication, especially on college campuses in this country. We assume that in the 21st century and especially at an Ivy League school, tolerance and compassion are important and race shouldn't matter. We should be smart enough to realise we share the same genetic code and we are all the same species. Even though I knew fraternity culture was a cesspool of homophobia, racism, and misogyny, I thought that their inner consciences would stick up and someone in that group of people would say "stop, this isn't right."

I couldn't be more wrong. 

To me, Trayvon Martin's murder is the large scale equivalent of what happened at that fraternity on the cold May night of 2012. Acquitting George Zimmerman announces to the world black lives are irrelevant. Their hurt and pain is lesser than a white man's. Being black in this country means second class citizenship even if you are moneyed and went to a great school. It doesn't matter that Mark O'Mara congratulated Maddy, juror B29 for thinking with her head instead of with her heart. Because we all know in our hearts that George Zimmerman racially profiled Trayvon Martin and followed him because he was black.

It doesn't matter that it was 8pm. It doesn't matter the police dispatcher told Zimmerman not to follow Trayvon. It doesn't matter that Trayvon Martin was like any other typical American teenager, eating Skittles and drinking iced tea. 

What does matter is that Trayvon Martin is dead, his life extinguished permanently, and his killer is celebrating somewhere, freed because racism is still kicking well and alive in 2013. 

[wearenottrayvonmartin]

I Am Not Trayvon Martin

I am not Trayvon Martin, but I know what it feels like to be. I am a 17 year old Hispanic girl in Chicago trying to give myself a better education.  Now, growing up in a predominantly Hispanic neighborhood all my life is really what made me what I am today. I strong sense of community and family resonate in both my brother and I. Our friends are like our family and I will always defend them. But when I transferred schools at 10 to a privileged white Catholic school, I got a rude awakening. Those people saw me and the few other Hispanic kids in the class as dumb and stupid. Why are they here? They don't belong in this school. But au contrair mon ami. We were the kids who moved on to better schools with better educations while the others are wasting away in a tiny Indiana town. That was the first time I ever experienced racism and it fueled me to prove that I was just as good as the other kids.

But it was hard sometimes. As I continued to play softball and basketball, it was obvious that the refs and umpires favored the other girls. Though I had some friends in grade schools, I was never able to feel comfortable there. Only until I went to high school, I felt accepted for my own intelligence and personality, not my heritage.

The high school I attend is one that is known to be accepting for the differences of the students along with being a leading academic school in the state and in the nation. Here, I was able to succeed going into my senior year without any trouble or obstacles to stop me. But as college application time is drawing closer everyday, I am constantly reminded by not only my peers, but my teachers as well, that it is better for me to be Hispanic so that I can attend the college of my dreams.

Time Out

First of all, I am very proud of my culture and the values instilled within myself every since i was young. But now to hear that it is good to be Hispanic, I had to do a double take in a sense. I know that it is an "advantage" to be a minority on the Common Application, but to think that some people are spiteful of me being this was is confusing. To face what I have makes me special. It makes me unique. But that doesn't mean I will automatically get into the college of my dreams. I will get in because of the hard work and determination I have put forward all my life. Just because you are a different race than mine doesn't mean that you have any less a chance than I do.

Because of Zimmerman, Trayvon cannot succeed as I dream to do along with the vast majority of teenagers across the world. He will never finish being a teenager and never experience being an adult. He won't go to college. He won't find a job and live a happy life. Because he isn't here anymore. That is the eyeopener that the nation needs to realize. He wasn't able to be a kid because he did for his skin.

So at the end of this, think about how he never will have the chance to succeed like I do. Though he is not here anymore, we still have to experience things that he did. I will still face the challenge of being Hispanic everyday. But that doesn't mean that I will back down. I am just as equal as every other teenager in the world. I am my own person. So don't tell me anything different.

[wearenottrayvonmartin]

The "injustice" system

I am not Trayvon Martin. I am a 45 year old white woman who lives in a predominately white area of a small Northeastern city.

When I was younger I did not understand the ramifications of being a minority in contemporary America. I was ignorant about the passive and active violence perpetrated by whites against people with dark skin. I was not aware of the large and small indignities faced by minorities daily as they go about the serious business of surviving in a hostile environment.

I didn’t understand this until I met a lovely man by the name of Khalid. He was a dark-skinned Indian immigrant who had the misfortune of being Muslim in a post 9/11 America. We met in 2005 and fell in love and were married in 2006. Early in our relationship Khalid told me that he was not a legal resident in the United States. This surprised me because I assumed that he was an American citizen. He had only the slightest accent and was completely Americanized.

Khalid came to this country in 1986 on a student VISA. He attended the University of Oklahoma for electrical engineering. He had no intentions of staying in the US since he had a promising future waiting for him in Kuwait. He simply wanted to get his degree and return to be with his family.

However, the Iraq­Kuwait War erupted in August 1990. My husband’s family was forced to flee the country. Family members went to U.A.E and several returned to India. Khalid’s father could no longer afford the expensive college tuition, so Khalid had to drop out of school. He couldn’t return to Kuwait and since the rest of the family was in a perilous position and migrants themselves­­ Khalid could not return to be with them. Khalid was forced to drop out of school and fend for himself as best he could.

In 1993 Khalid moved to Utica New York, a small city located an hour to the east of Syracuse. He procured a job driving a taxi around the city. Driving a taxi in the 1990’s was a dangerous job. Utica taxi drivers were routinely robbed at gunpoint. At least one local taxi driver was shot and killed while on duty.

To protect himself, Khalid carried a gun in the car. He had purchased the gun while living in Oklahoma after being threatened by some Midwestern thugs who thought that Khalid should go back where he came from­­by force if necessary.

Being new to the United States Khalid did not realize that laws oftentimes changed from state to state, Oklahoma  had hardly any restrictions on obtaining a gun, While it was legal to carry an unregistered gun in Oklahoma, it was illegal to do so in New York State. By possessing an unregistered gun in New York Khalid was technically breaking a law he didn’t knew existed.

This did not become evident until one hot August evening. Khalid pulled over on the side of the road on a dark deserted street to fill out some paperwork. The car windows were rolled down to catch the breeze wafting in the night air. Distracted by some commotion outside Khalid looked up to see two large men running menacingly to his vehicle. They screamed in a threatening way. Khalid swiftly pulled out the gun. Before the individuals reached the car he fired a single shot into the air. The bullet did not hit anyone, not did it do any damage to any property but luckily it compelled the individuals to scatter. Khalid’s intent was not to harm anyone but to scare away the potential attackers.

The police were summoned and Khalid cooperated with the investigation but rather than the aggressors being arrested Khalid was handcuffed and taken into custody. Upon sentencing, his court appointed lawyer failed to show up and Khalid was forced to answer the judge’s questions without legal counsel. Khalid was convicted of 3rd degree reckless endangerment, a sentence that dictated up to 6 months in jail. This conviction was put in place despite Khalid’s lack of legal representation during sentencing and never being accused or convicted of a previous crime.

A few years later, when Khalid filed an amnesty appeal for immigration purposes, his legal advisers tried to get the conviction overturned because of the callous and unprofessional way the previous lawyer handled his case. However, the appeal was denied because that lawyer wrote to the judge who presided over the immigration case and accused Khalid of lying.

After four months Khalid was let out of jail and tried to live a normal life despite the conviction and the precariousness of having an expired VISA. He found a good job working at a local company repairing electronic equipment. Things were going well until 2003.

A large SWAT team (ICE) carrying automatic weapons appeared at Khalid’s residence in 2003. They broke down his door, put Khalid in handcuffs and abruptly escorted him to the Oneida County jail to await transportation to a detention facility in Batavia New York. He was only allowed a few minutes to procure his passports and important papers and say a quick goodbye to his girlfriend

Khalid spent 8 months in detention. He spent three of those weeks in solitary confinement. Only after his employer intervened and hired an immigration lawyer to file a motion based on habeus corpus was he released. By that time he had lost his house, his car, and all of his belongings. Luckily he did have a job waiting for him. However,  Homeland Security admitted to losing all three of Khalid’s passports ones he had on his person when he was arrested by ICE.

Since that time Khalid, with help from his employer, has spent over 30,000 dollars fighting his deportation case. It went all the way to the 2nd circuit court. The BIA (Board of Immigration Appeals) denied Khalid’s request for an adjustment of status stating that they did not have the jurisdiction to overrule a lower courts decision that Khalid’s “crime” was “particularly serious” Therefore, he was not eligible to become a legal permanent resident despite being married to an American citizen and not being able to file for a VISA in India. Khalid can’t travel or be deported to India­­or anywhere else since Homeland Security lost all his passports. At this point the only options  we have is to take the case to the Supreme Court or to have the case re­opened based on our marriage. Both options require unprecedented amounts of money and permission of the government to proceed. Neither option is  likely to change anything other than to make us significantly poorer.  

My husband is one of the kindest and most moral people I know. He never deserved to be charged with a crime. He never deserved to spend time in jail. He did not do anything that should have resulted in him spending 3 weeks in solitary confinement. He didn’t deserve to spend 8 months in detention. He didn’t deserve to lose his house, his car, his belongings or his dignity.

What I do know after this experience is the most grievous problem with the system­­; both the immigration and criminal judicial apparatus­­ is not that it failed my husband; but that it worked just as it was designed: to single out, confine and imprison  people with black and brown skin. Simultaneously, it works to ensure that white people who hurt, maim or kill black or brown people are protected under the law.

I feel the most important thing we can do individually to help to change society is to get involved with our community—all of our community—not just the members who look like us. Only when we get to know people who are different from us will we break down the barriers that separate us.

[wearenottrayvonmartin]

Being Asian American

I am not Trayvon Martin.

I am a 51 year old gay man, born in Hawai'i to a working class family, whose features and skin color mark me as East Asian. I have experienced financial insecurity and occasional poverty. I have been a farm worker and an elementary school janitor, homeless, and on public assistance.

But I am not Trayvon Martin.

Unlike Trayvon Martin and millions of other black boys and girls in the U.S., rising above poverty for me meant rising above the particular kind of hatred and suspicion that is suffered by black America. Put a suit on me and I'm a banker. Bermuda shorts and a camera make me a tourist. Rags make me mentally ill, an anomaly. A grill and gold chains make me a pretender. But whatever I wear I am not profiled as a criminal, a threat to public safety, a leech or a burden simply because of the color of my skin. 

I came to adulthood during the AIDS crisis. Just as I found my way into a loving gay community, I was forced to watch helplessly as many among my loved ones fell ill, even died, while our government did next to nothing. I have been gay bashed and stalked.

But I am not Trayvon Martin.

I am a cisgender male. Homo-hatred still haunts me, the danger of bashing and harassment still lurks, but it does not control me. I do not wonder if the police will stop me and frisk me, perhaps even assault me as I walk by them, lined up by the projects near my home. As a gay man, I live in hope of a time when I will be able to spend an entire day without fear. That hope is is rooted in the fact that my sexual orientation may repulse you, but my citizenship is not in doubt. It is not, as it is for the Trayvon Martins of the world, constantly contested, questioned, and compromised.

I am an activist. I've suffered vandalism and death threats, police harassment, arrest, federal investigators prying into my private life, and the generalized, day to day sense that I was never safe, never secure, always in danger. But I was not arbitrarily picked out for this experience because of my race. I can take off the political buttons and put down the signs, and retreat to the relative safety of light skin.

That doesn't mean mine is only a life of privilege. Being cast as Asian American means I belong to a subordinate racial group invented by Europeans. Being Asian means calling myself by a name I was given in order to denigrate, exploit and exclude me, and even to justify wars against people who look like me.

Being Asian American means having to bear rude, invasive, dehumanizing speculation concerning everything from my eyesight, to the size and shape of my brain and genitalia. It means being regarded as the other, as foreign, mysterious, and exotic. Asian women are dolls, and Asian men are boys until we disappear into middle age and eventually become quaint, funny little old men.

And it's not as if we don't fear violence. In the 1980s, being Asian meant being blamed for the U.S. auto crisis. Back then, we were all Vincent Chin. Today we are still vulnerable to hate violence. 

But we are not Trayvon Martin. Vigilantes aren't police officers. They operate outside of the law, not as enforcers of it. Black males are victimized more often by cops than by wannabes. We pay for the oppression of black people through our taxes. 

We are the model minority, those of us not labeled "terrorist," war bride, or sex slave. It is a stereotype that comes with certain privileges conditioned on cooperation.

But accepting that condition costs us something. Even superhuman isn't human and makes us vulnerable to being objectified and persecuted for our otherness.

And the cost to us is just the beginning. The model minority is a myth invented by the media during the height of the civil rights struggle, against the backdrop of black urban uprisings. It was invented to serve as a morality tale whose lesson boiled down to this: the Asian model minority doesn't protest or demand changes from our government. Instead they overcome racism by just quietly going along with racism. The problem with black poverty is black people's refusal to struggle against it according to the rules of white supremacy.

So yes, I am not Trayvon Martin. But I choose, however imperfectly, to try to stand on the same side of the color line; to protest and whine, demand and hector, march and agitate, point fingers and organize because the cost to my humanity for the indignities I face and the privileges I enjoy can only be taken back when we are all Trayvon Martin and all that means is that we are all just human.