admin— His own mother Mary.
During His three years of ministry, she followed Him, and was faithful to His mission to the very end.
The gospel of John 19:25 records, “Now they stood by the cross of Jesus his mother, and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Cleophas, and Mary Magdalene.”
Such is the bond between mothers and children.
It is in this context that we thought that our readers could share the pain and anguish of a minister of the gospel and a mother who reflects on the murder of teenage black boy Trayvon Martin in Florida, in the United States of America on February 26.
It might sound like an American tragedy, but globalisation has allowed us to make it our tragedy.
The killer, though known to law enforcement agents, is yet to be arrested because of some technicality in the law. Instead, the deceased boy and his family — their character — are now on trial, while endless efforts are being made to protect the killer.
It is a piece that puts race relations in the US in proper perspective. It is also a piece that says that despite the seeming progress, racism is still America’s number one problem.
African-American singer Chaka Khan graphically underscored the problem on the Piers Morgan Show (CNN), recently.
However, it took Barack Obama a month to make a public comment about Trayvon’s murder, and for viewers who saw him speak and walk away from the cameras, it was evident that there was a veiled admission that racism against black people is an issue in the US.
President Obama called for some “soul-searching” and added: “If I had a son, he would look like Trayvon . . . Obviously this is a tragedy. And when I think about this boy I think about my own kids.”
Every African-American parent feels the same. They think of their children who are needlessly harassed because they are black, even after realising the “American
dream”, as one of their own is now the president of the United States.
Below are Frances Cudjoe Waters’ reflections on the Trayvon Martin tragedy, and racism in the US:
I still remember the first time it happened. I was dropping off my 17-year-old cousin at a friend’s house in the wealthy, white Massachusetts suburb in which I lived and where my father is still a professor. We knocked on the wrong door.
Minutes later, I was pulled over by the police. Slight, young and scared, I was interrogated about my activities, whether I was delivering drugs and what I was up to. I remembered. My parents had sat me down months before when I got my licence.
It doesn’t matter that you are an honours student.
It doesn’t matter that you’ve never been in trouble a day in your life. It doesn’t matter that you are leaving to start attending Stanford this fall.
When most of these police officers see you, all they will see is a young black girl and that can be dangerous.
So, when you are harassed, and you will be, try to stay calm. Try not to be afraid and call us as soon as you can. A black teenager’s right of passage.
Since then I, a minivan-driving soccer mom of three, have been stopped because I “looked suspicious.”
My husband, a partner in a Dallas law firm, has watched white women clutch their purses in the elevator out of fear of him because he “looked suspicious.”
One of my best friends from college, a Wall Street banker, was stopped last year after leaving a midweek choir rehearsal at his church and arrested for “looking suspicious” in his own tiny Westchester suburb, and was forced to spend the night in jail.
And, my 26-year-old brother-in-law, a Princeton honours graduate, an ordained minister and a Habitat for Humanity staff member living in Harlem, was stopped and
questioned while walking home from work by four white police officers just six weeks ago because they thought “he looked suspicious — like he was looking into a van.”
Thank God none of us were shot out of “self-defence” since our brown skin made us look so “suspicious.” I am scared. It is not a new fear, but one that has never gone away, and is heightened as I look at my three beautiful boys.
These precious ones, for whom my husband and I have lovingly and willingly sacrificed much, with whom I have stayed up countless nights, wiping noses and reading bedtime stories, for whom I have visited dozens of schools and spent hours of research, trying to find the right school, in short, the sons for whom I have given my life, could find themselves in danger through no fault of their own.
Now they are growing up from babies into fine young men. And, that should be nothing but pure joy. Yet, in our society, that also means new danger for them. Not just from the random violence that can touch any life, but due to the particular violence that is visited upon black boys — especially as they begin to look like young men.
We have to prepare them for what they will encounter because of someone else’s perception of who they are, based on media images that portray black boys and men as predators, pimps and thugs — even though my sons have no personal reference for this.
No, the black men in their lives are loving, responsible and hardworking fathers, uncles, teachers and friends, who model courage and conviction, values and virtue, and family and faith. So, how could it not be the case that the tragic murder of Trayvon Martin in Florida last month breaks my heart, troubles my soul and compels me to action?
How can it be that, a month later, his shooter has not even been charged with a crime? How can it be that we live in a country that we fight to defend, but where the taking of our sons’ lives does not even warrant their killers’ arrest? How can it be that this child’s life was taken simply because he was walking while black? How can this be the America that I love? Sadly, so little has changed.
My well-meaning white friends have no idea why so many African-Americans distrust or fear the police who have vowed to protect and serve. And, they have no idea what it is like for black parents to have to prepare their children to deal with a public that often still judges them by the colour of their skin.
These friends are so committed to the idea that we live in a colour-blind society that it is hard for them even to perceive, let alone to help change, the reality that impacts our lives and the lives of our children daily.
I learned in law school, and it is still true today, that it is the colour of the victim, not the perpetrator, that is one of the greatest determinants in criminal sentencing. The harshest penalties are given for crimes against white women and the least harsh, even for the same crimes, are meted out when the victim is “only” black.
So, I can’t make nice. I can’t pretend. The murder of Trayvon Martin could be the murder of any black boy going to the store for iced tea and candy, including my sons. The clock is ticking, and justice has not been served. The clock is ticking, and my sons will be black young men soon.
And, my husband and I have to prepare to have the same talk with them that my parents had with me. You are bright. You are funny and smart and sometimes silly. Your laughter and smiles fill up the room when you enter. And your warmth and your hugs fill my heart with more happiness and joy than any one person has a right to expect in a lifetime.
You are capable of being anything you want to be in this life — even president of the United States one day. But when you walk out of the safety, protection and loving arms of our home, you are walking while black, and only our prayers can protect you then. — www.latimes.com/www.huffingtonpost.com.
l Frances Cudjoe Waters, is a minister in the United Methodist Church in Dallas, Texas. She is a graduate of Stanford University and Harvard Law School. She actively preaches, teaches and hosts monthly seminars addressing real-life issues that face her readers and listeners. She has also written “The mis-education of
Whitney Houston”. Introductory remarks were made by Tendai Hildegarde Manzvanzvike.
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