Today, like many folks, I marched for Trayvon Martin. Despite the heat, I wore a hoodie and shouted in a collective voice“No justice, no peace!” It felt good to let the anger pour out of my body. I was defiant as I pumped a black fist in the air. There were many speeches. Some folks went on a tangent about America, in general. Some folks tried to piggy back off the march with their own agenda (420 rights). I liked the people who spoke honestly/passionately about racism, black liberation, and anti-black racism. I had mixed emotions about the white hipsters in the crowd. The march was held in a neighborhood hit hard by gentrification. The displacement of a black community by those very same folks. There weren’t a lot of people. The park should have been filled with protestors. When I walked to the rally, it shocked me to see people casually hanging out coffee shops, sipping on drinks outside restaurants, and walking leisurely down the street. Why weren’t more people outraged? I thought. Why does everything still seem so normal? The sad truth is that despite these tragedies, life goes on. I think that’s what makes it so messed up, when you think about it. The rest off us will go on with our lives. The truth is the anger gets reduced to a simmer until the next incident (probably the white man who shot a black teen for blasting music in a car with friends). But for Trayon’s parents, this is their truth forever. They no longer have their son. He was murdered for no other reason than being black.
And that’s f*cked up. ..