Would Stand Your Ground Have Worked for Me?

By A Comeaux

I’m sure by now you’ve had your unfair share of opinions and feelings on our newest involuntary martyr, Trayvon Martin.

I’d even bet the comparisons of his attack and our crime rate in Chicago, married with White vs. Black America have weighed on your heart. I heard the cries of white privilege, even the interview on CNN and the Twitter revolt after a publicized book deal (since dissolved) for Juror B-37. This, all, is a lot. Even for a “taboo topic writer” like myself this is all a bit much.

I’m a mother of a black boy.

See, it’s easy for us to separate ourselves from the kids killing kids because those aren’t our kids. Those are kids on the news. Kids whose block we ride past on the highway and think little to nothing of; sad, but true.

Trayvon could’ve been any of our kids. He wasn’t on a corner selling dope, that kid the radio boasts about. He wasn’t stealing from a white person’s home or raping someone’s daughter. He wasn’t fighting cops for profiling him or shooting up a playground for street credibility.

His innocent death showed us how invaluable a black life is.  

We connect with him because it’s relatable for your teen to run to the store, chat on the phone with his friend, in all the hopes he will return. This wasn’t an inner city random shooting with no witnesses or snitches. This was our son, our neighbor and nephew. When an unarmed black boy is followed, approached and murdered; and the murderer later found not guilty, we feel it in our souls. Our oppressed, weary, sleeping souls.

Sleeping because the thought we are equal and the system will fight for us is nothing more than an expired dream. The system, in the same state who upheld the law that gave George Zimmerman rights to ‘protect’ himself, has a woman in custody facing 20 years for firing warning shots! No fatalities. No wounds. An attacked woman wanted to provoke fear by firing shots, into a wall. I was her.

I was attacked, while pregnant and if I had access to a gun, I may have shot him. HIM. Not a warning. I rally for Marissa Alexander. I know what it feels like to have the arms that hold you be the same fist that break you.

In addition to my own life, I was carrying a seed he planted in me. Yes, I would have shot him. In, self-defense of course. I wonder, in fear, if that Stand Your Ground defense would have worked for me?

When we live in an America that values walls and fighting dogs over a black child’s life… When we live in an America that we have to protest for the arrest of a murderer and the police on the scene err on the side of the defendant… When we live in an America that warning shots warrant a 20-year sentence…

Well my beloveds, it hugged my heart to see the peace rallies and the protestors enraged at this injustice.

I’m with you.

A Comeaux is the writer, speaker and actor who poetically paints pictures of life and love with a paradoxical perspective. Follow her on Twitter @KCOSpoke

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