There are some young, black men in my life. And I worry about them. I worry that another young black man might cause them harm. That is the nature of the beast, after all.
But as much as I worry about that, as of tonight, I’m now much more worried that open season has been declared on young black men. Because if a young man who was walking home with a bag of Skittles and Arizona tea can be followed and shot because he’s a young black male in the wrong neighborhood, and the man who shot him can claim self-defense and walk home a free man–then the message comes out loud and clear that young black men are disposable, do with them as you will.
And I also know, that had the situation been reversed–and the young black man was the one who survived—he would be on his way to prison for the rest of his life.
Me and G-d have to have a long talk tonight.