I see preppy white boys the same age as Tamir Rice carrying air soft guns in my neighborhood and in affluent neighborhoods near me. The longish hair swooshed over their eyes, ever so effortlessly coiffed. They are decked out in Nike shirts or Vineyard T-shirts emblazoned with the iconic whale. Elite socks in bright colors pulled up high. They look no different than my own 12-year old son. Except he is brown. Brown enough to draw attention, a second glance. Yet not brown enough to draw alarm, or so I hope. I haven’t reason to be afraid. So many of my friends’ sons, however, don’t have the luxury of walking around in public with a toy gun or without, depending on the situation.
I should say, my sons don’t have these toy guns.
It jolts me every time. It’s jarring to see young boys running along the sidewalk with guns strapped on or see the children posturing behind trees and picnic tables, guns propped up and aimed at an unseen target.My neighborhood park and elementary school playground are littered with the smooth plastic green and white airsoft pellets. As far as I know, no child has been arrested, or shot and killed, for having an air soft gun where I live.
But by all means, let’s keep pushing for more lax open carry laws and close our eyes to the double standards that are killing our boys of color, America.
Yes, the very same in my neighborhood. I smack my head with how people say the police are just doing their job. They are rolling in, arriving on the scene, ready to kill is their only plan. Black lives don’t matter to them.
My sons have my own sensitive alabaster skin, but they are not allowed to play with toy guns, brightly colored or otherwise. Especially not outside the house.