Wrong About Trayvon

Trayvon Benjamin Martin
February 5, 1995 - February 26, 2012

My heart feels so heavy right now. I keep trying to write something from my brain, but I'm very caught up in my feels. So, let me start by stating the obvious, Trayvon should have turned 20 today, because this is fucking America!

It doesn't matter if he smoked weed, he didn't deserve to be killed. It doesn't matter that he was fucking up in school, he didn't deserve to be killed. It's doesn't matter that he was a troublemaker, he didn't deserve to be killed. It doesn't matter that he was wearing a hoodie, he didn't deserve to be killed. It doesn't matter that he looked suspicious, he didn't deserve to be killed. It doesn't matter if he was perceived to be or was actually out of place, he didn't deserve to be killed. It doesn't matter if he popped off when confronted, he didn't deserve to be killed. It doesn't matter if his poses in pictures makes you uncomfortable, he didn't deserve to be killed. But he was. And he killed without justice.

People who disagree with what I've said so far, do so because they believe Trayvon's life was not of significance. He hadn't gotten it right by 17, so what does it matter if he lives to 20. He wouldn't have been anything anyway. How fucked up is that?

At what age would my senseless murder stop being justified?

By 20 years old I had totally owned 4/7 Sacraments, taught 4th grade Communion prep at my church, lost my first true love, worked in the MetLife building, the Lincoln building and Lord & Taylor (exciting for a girl from the Bronx). I also worked in C-Town, but that wasn't exciting. I set records for truancy before finally dropping out of school. I was a stripper and "escort" for almost two years before showing up at the club at noon on a Wednesday once. I promptly moved to Vegas to become a square; I was not about that life. In Vegas, I became a functional meth using gambling addict, owner of a successful computer repair and data recovery service, and earned my GED. That was all before I turned 21.

At 30, I was cold-turkey clean for almost 3 years, diagnosed with bipolar and manic depression, made my first attempt to go to college, became suicidal on Prozac and dropped out. I also started a technical support call center job for a major phone company that year. I loved it. At 31, I earned a leadership position and was making $38k-$40k a year de-escalating customers and developing agents. I had responsibility, stability, and an amazing support system. The life I always thought I would have had, *should* have had finally started. And, I fucking nailed it in less time than Jesus.

This is America. And it is wholly Un-American for anyone to even attempt to justify Trayvon's killing based on 17 short years. In America, you thank GOD you're an American every time you ruin your life, because as long as you are alive and willing to put in the work, you can start over and make something out of yourself before you die. America is supposed to be the "buy here, pay here, no DL no problem, ID ok" 4th chance financing, hope dealership. Being an American means, you pre-qualify for redemption. Naturally, with a higher deposit and interest rate, because you make stupid choices. That's the American Dream. A fair shot at absolution.

I turned 36 in January of 2015. By the end of this year, I will have been a wife for 3 years, a mother to my baby girl for 3 years, a stepmother to my teenage son with ASD for 5 years, starting my second year of college (fingers crossed ya'll), and working to achieve my life's purpose; to help heal the world. And I only recognize that I even have purpose because I wasn't killed by someone who thought I never would.