Three Fifths Manslaughter

There are moments that define lives. Enough of those moments in the lives of many people, similar or not create patterns. Patterns create perceptions and perception is reality. Make no mistake about that.

There is a pattern that I've noticed as of late. Its not even a stretch of imagination to say so. When Black men are unjustly gunned down by police officers or anyone of authority who legally carries a firearm, the charge is usually manslaughter.

Recently, a young life was taken after suffering 10 shots from an officer’s weapon. Jonathan Ferrell was murdered after surviving a horrendous car accident in which he escaped by kicking his way out of the back window. Oscar Grant lost his life after being fired upon by a police officer while lying on his stomach. Sean Bell was a victim at the hands of several officers.

Besides the obvious fact that these young men were killed by cops, a recurring theme in their prosecution is that the party responsible was never charged with anything more than manslaughter.

Its hard for it not to feel like our lives are less than others. Its hard to see a silver lining. As Black men we are already faced with a common mistrust for police enforcement. These kind of examples further our chasm.

Are we not human beings? Are our lives worth less or worthless? No. We are human. We are lovers and we are loved. Our ancestors were once counted three fifths of human being in order for the South to be properly represented in government. Now, after full citizenship, are we not owed equal protection under the law, from danger and in this nation. This is our America, too. How about another compromise?

Excuse Me, Miss

Who is raising your kid? I ask that with the utmost sincerity. Do you really know what he wants to be? Do you realize what he could be? Do you know where he’s headed? Is that ok with you? I ask because I spoke with your son at school today. He told me that he wanted to be a thug. No joke. He wants to be a thug because it’s tight. I know that you have a lot going on and that you have other children to raise. I know that you work several jobs. I know that you haven’t heard from his father in years. I am aware of all of the obstacles in your life that could get in the way of rearing your child, but he needs you to be superhuman.

He’s much smarter than his teacher thinks. She’s just more focused on his behavior. After sitting in his class, I can understand why. He needs you. I only get an hour a week.