I thought about my daughter, 17 and just beginning her life. So many adventures ahead of her. I thought of Trayvon - his life over in an instant. No more dreams to fulfill, no more adventures to plan, no more goals to reach. I thought about Trayvon's parents who should rightfully be celebrating their son's passage into adulthood, congratulating themselves for a job well done. Instead, they now mark the days since they last held their son, saw him smile, or heard him laugh. I feel broken.
Perhaps I am a Pollyanna, because I truly believed Zimmerman would be found guilty. Maybe not of 2nd Degree Murder but certainly of manslaughter, if there was ever a case of "killed without legal justification" this was it to me. I believed. I truly, truly, believed that our legal system could bring justice to a family who had suffered such an unimaginable loss. I forgot about the millions of black men in our country that languish in prison. I forgot the black woman sentenced to 20 years for "Standing her Ground" against an abusive husband - a husband who ignored the protective order against him. Still I believed there would be justice for Trayvon. I feel broken.
I forget sometimes that I live in a little bubble. I'm a Cuban- American woman, with a biracial child, whose friends and family scan the the full spectrum of the ethnic rainbow and all versions of sexual orientation. The people in my life are open, loving, caring people who judge people by the content of their character not the color of their skin. They stand side by side with me in the belief that all people are equal and deserve equal protections under the law. I forget that the rest of the world doesn't always operate in this way. That too often the laws are interpreted one way for whites and another for those who aren't. I forget that politicians often try to separate and conquer us by appealing to the baser instinct of those who fear anyone different. I forget that my reality is very different than that of my darker skinned friends. Today I read the status updates of my godson, I feel his pain and anger at a system that has once again betrayed him. I don't even know what to say to him or how to even begin to help him make sense of something that sickens me. Another friend asks for someone who agrees with the verdict to explain it - even in his pain, he demands respect for anyone brave enough to speak up - something that isn't always offered to him. I look at these people I love and care about, I think about the millions more just like them, who learned yet again, how little our laws protect them. I feel broken.
Today I sit here wondering where do we go from here? How do we all just go forward with our lives after such a terrible travesty of justice? I am not ashamed to admit that last night in anger I wished George Zimmerman a visit from Karma. That he be stalked, hunted and shot down exactly the way he did to Trayvon. But in the light of day, I realize that I don't want another young man to waste his life on the alter of the vile contemptible Zimmerman family. Because in the end that doesn't solve anything. We are still left with laws that are not equitably dispensed. We are still left with a justice system that doesn't protect the weakest among us. And then I realize, it's not just me, it's our country that's broken.
