Who was Trayvon Martin?
The banner of angry demonstrators read: “We are all Trayvon.” Are we? Who was Trayvon Martin anyway, and is he really “us”? We were all shot in the heart on that dark night in Sanford, Florida. This is a very sad story about the state of the United States. The truth is Trayvon himself never got to answer the question “Who is Trayvon Martin?” I don’t think even he knew. He died from a gunshot wound before he could find out. By the way, 440 school age children were shot in Chicago in 2012 (300 killed in three years). They never had the story of their short lives on CNN or Fox News. But today the spotlight is not on the Windy City; it is still on a published picture of a black boy wearing a hoodie, which the President of the United States said looked like the son he never had. Some will want to make him into the face of a new Civil Rights movement or into the patron saint against injustice. Who was Trayvon? Was he the cute little Tray his broken-hearted parents remember who went out for Skittles and soda-pop never to come home, or was he the pot smoking thug who posted images of a gang banger on the internet? Did he really see the world as black and white? Testimony from a friend about his last phone conversation, suggested that he did.
Celebrities will be calling for Justice, and Politicians will be talking about guns, racial profiling, and immigration (especially of white Hispanics), and then step back from the lights and microphones into their “gated communities.”
In 1963 I was taking a shortcut home as night fell on West Babylon, Long Island. Suddenly I saw the flashing lights of a police car in the distance which stopped and then jumped the curb and raced across the grass of the outfield in my direction. I scanned, and looked around to see what was going on. I was alone. The car stopped. Where was I going? Why was I where I was? Who was I? The policeman asked. Before I knew what was going on I was in the back seat of a patrol car (did you know that there were no inside door handles in the back of a patrol car?). I sat there for what seemed to be a very long time. Then the radio squawked to life. Seems they found some kid that matched my description (profile) and confirmed him as the suspect they were looking for. “10/4, copy.” The cop got out opened the back door and said, “get out.” I did. He got back in the squad car and drove away without saying a word. I was profiled.
The truth is Zimmerman profiled a hooded youth and a hooded youth profiled Zimmerman. The media profiled the police, and police profile everyone. Every mother loves her children and love always thinks the best. Parents tend to be blind to their children’s bad side (profile). Every child is on the lookout for the big bad wolf and little Red Riding Hood should never had gone to Grandma’s house by herself. In Mark Chapter One and verse 13 we find Jesus Christ, God’s Son, somewhere in the wilderness. Satan and the wild animals are on one side and ministering Angels on the other. That’s where we are in the Trayvon Martin story. What happens next depends on which way we turn.