“All we want to do is take the chains off
All we want to do is be free
All we want to do is be free…”
-J. Cole, “Be Free”
If you study the history of this country you’ll see that law enforcement has never been ingratiating to black people, especially black men. Even children aren’t off limits from stereotyping, discrimination and hate. The tragic killing of Emmitt Till is a perfect example of this fact. However, it’s always chilling and horrifying to hear of another black life being taken away due to ignorance and bigotry. First Eric Garner, then Mike Brown and countless others. And that’s just in the past few weeks! Sometimes I wonder if I’ll be next black body to fall victim to the plague that is white supremacy.
This permeated fear is one that many young black men around America face. We risk of being shot dead with our killer walking off free and countless people struggling for a way to justify the murder every time we walk out the door of our living residences, into a world that hates us and sees us as a threat. The reports on Fox News and the comments from heartless YouTube trolls are sickening.
How can you possibly dismiss the slaughter of an unarmed teenage boy? No matter how hard you try, police violence on unarmed black men is the topic of discussion. Yes, the high rates of black-on-black crime is important but there’s already considerable attention being paid to that issue. We still have these child killers walking free and getting hundreds of thousands of dollars in donations in reward for the villainous act that they committed. That’s the real injustice.
The murder of Mike Brown has particularly been on my mind since the story broke. He was my same age when this event happened after all. I took to writing, my love and passion, to let go of the repressed anger and vitriol that I had inside of me. I eventually wrote a short, first person narrative chronicling the thoughts of a person that’s an essential moving target because of the color of his skin. Maybe this could educate our agitators, agents, trolls and detractors.
Moving Target
Richard Thomson
When I saw George Zimmerman go free for killing Trayvon Martin, I discovered that my life was of no value. Here I am, a seventeen-year-old young man with the weight of the world on my shoulders because of the fact that I’m black. After seeing that horrible injustice, I started to think incredibly negative thoughts. My dreams of becoming an engineer quickly turned into nightmares of being gunned down in cold blood by a “man” that perceives me as a threat to his life because of my six-foot stature, muscular frame and mahogany brown skin. I feared that I’d be the next case of a defining racial stereotype gone wrong.
Who knew my nightmares would come to past a couple of months later?
It was the third week of September and I was walking home. I had a productive day, scoring well on all the tests that I took. They were the first major assessments of the year and I wanted to start strong so I could finish stronger. I felt as if my spot as the valedictorian of the senior class was perfectly secure!
My house wasn’t far from Booker T High School on the eastside of Willowsfield, Georgia. It was ten minutes away to be exact. The sky was gray and cloudy, all the signs that it was about to pour down with rain. I pulled out my iPhone, put in my earphones, turned on some music and picked up my pace, hoping I could make it to my parent’s house before it started storming.
As I was walking, a white and blue Willowsfield Police Department car rode up beside me. I looked in their direction and saw that there were two officers intensely looking at me. It was almost like they were staring through me. I made nothing of it though, as I did nothing wrong. The police vehicle came to a halt and the two officers, both white and dressed in full uniform, got out and approached me.
I snatched out my earphones and looked up at both of them, “Is there a problem officers?”
One of them said, “We got a report that there were items stolen from the store Ripley’s at six forty-five this morning and you fit the profile that we were given.”
Ripley’s is a gas station on the east side of town that I don’t go to at all. Whenever my boys and I would go in to buy some snacks back in 9th grade, they follow us around like we were master crooks or something. Then, they’d always give us horrible service. I vowed I’d never buy anything else at that store a while ago. No matter my feelings, I definitely wouldn’t try to rob them. That’s stupid!
I gave them a confused stare, “That’s impossible. I was in school at that time. You have the wrong person.”
The other said, “We won’t know that until we get a chance to search you. You wouldn’t mind that would you?”
As I looked the cops in the eye, my dad’s words echoed in my head,
“If any police officers ever try to question you, keep calm and make sure you’re respectful to them. Don’t try to argue and get your point across like you attempt to do with us. You’re a black man in America, Richard. Cooperate with them and don’t give them any reason to attack you.”
I shook my head, “No, I don’t mind at all.”
They escorted me over to the cop car and had me put my hands on the hood of the car. They patted me down and even removed my shoes. It was incredibly unnecessary but I went along with it, trying my best to keep my cool and cooperate like dad told me to. They then went into my book bag and pulled out what they thought to be evidence that I did rob the store, a cherry flavored Gatorade and a medium sized bag of hot Cheetos. I could tell then that they were reaching for a reason to lock me up or worse…….
The officer walked up to me and held the Cheetos bag up in my face,
“Can you explain where you got this from?”
“I bought that from the vending machine at my high school. I’m a student at Booker T.”
My arms were starting to hurt holding it in position on the car so I was about to take it off but the officer hit his fist on the hood and hissed, “Don’t you dare move your hands, boy!”
The other officer put my hands behind my back and slapped handcuffs on me. They then bent me onto the hood of the car. I could see some of the people from my school looking on. These officers were starting to make a scene and it really was embarrassing.
One of the officers leaned down in my ear and shouted, “Why are you lying to us? We know you stole this from Ripley’s! Tell us the truth and we’ll go lenient on you.”
“Officer, I am telling you the truth! I didn’t steal anything.”
He put his hand on the back of my head and drove my face down into the hood of the car, “Since you want to keep up this lie, I guess we’re going to have to take you to the station.”
Tears started streaming down my face. My fears were coming to fruition.
I heard a girl ask, “What’s going on? Why are you doing this to him?”
The other officer said, “This has nothing to do with you. Go on about your business.”
A boy whose voice I recognized said, “This has everything to do with us! Rich did nothing wrong. Y’all are just messing with him!”
“Get that camera out of my face now!”
The officer let up the pressure he was putting on the back of my head and I got a chance to look up. I saw Mrs. Wimberley sitting on the porch in her rocking chair. She had a look of shock on her face. She’s known me ever since I was a boy and knows that I never keep up trouble.
All of a sudden, I heard a bullet being put in the chamber of a gun and folks gasping. I then got thrown down to the ground hard.
The officer that was on me shouted, “Didn’t he tell you to get that camera out of his face?”
I was frozen on the ground. I couldn’t move an inch due to the fact that my arms were still in the handcuffs. The officer kneeled down and said into my ear,
“What’s wrong with you people? You’re always stealing something or robbing someone. Just a bunch of savage animals!”
With tears freely flowing down my face, I said, “Please don’t do this! I didn’t steal from anybody. I’ve never stolen from anybody!”
My pleas were in vain. All I heard was the gun going off and people screaming. As I breathed my last breath, I thought, “Why did this have to happen to me?”
R.I.P
Oscar Grant
Trayvon Martin
Jordan Russell Davis
Eric Garner
Michael Brown
Ezell Ford
And the countless others that have had their lives stolen away due to permeated ignorance.
-We came, we saw, we conquered! My debut publishing effort “Riverview High: Circumstances” reached #2 on the Amazon charts! Check it out on Amazon today. Don’t forget to leave a review!
-“The Diary Of Aaliyah Anderson” is out now! Make sure to go get it!
Do you have any questions, comments or concerns? Was I right or wrong on this issue? I would love to hear from you! Contact me directly at:
Email: [email protected]
Kik: @AuthorRandallB
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