Like most kids, when I was in high school I didn’t let a
little thing like the law stop me from experimenting with alcohol. I was a
geeky introvert, and a little buzz gave me the confidence to talk to people and
helped me to fit in with my crowd of fellow outcasts. A little vodka made us
feel a little more cool, a little less odd. So drinking was our hobby, and being
teenagers, it never really occurred to us that drinking in conjunction with
driving might be dangerous. We thought we were invincible.
So it came to pass that late one Saturday night I was
driving with a friend through a shopping district that had shuttered its doors
many hours earlier. It was her car, but for some reason I was at the wheel. Although
I was a month or two shy of my 18th birthday, she was the legal age
of 18, and had procured for us a large bottle of cheap wine. The bottle, more
than half empty, was under her seat; the other half of the wine was in us.
I coasted through a yellow light before I notice the patrol
car stopped at the cross street. He flipped on his lights, and I pulled over.
The cop, probably only a few years older than me, asked what
we were doing in that part of town, although I’m sure he knew we were just
driving, the sport of teens in small-town America. He commented, “Well, you
looked like you were going a little fast through that light.”
Now, let’s be clear: I was in an area of town that I had no
business being in. I was underage, I was driving drunk, and I had an open
container in the front seat. I should have been scared. But I was 17, and I
thought I was invincible.
I argued with him.
“I was only in second gear, so I couldn’t have been going
over 25,” I huffed.
He should have busted me, but instead he backed down. “Just
be careful, and watch your speed,” he said. He returned to his car, and we drove
off.
From time to time, even the most responsible teens and young
adults take part in behavior that is risky and even stupid—this is part of
growing up, and as parents sometimes all we can do is pray that they survive
their bad choices and learn from them. But
while white kids can chalk these things up to youthful indiscretion, teens of
color rarely have that luxury.
As I look ahead to Lily and Lewi’s teen years, I fear particularly
for Lewi, who is already confident and sassy, things that the white community
hates to see in a young black man. At this point in life he is known and loved in
his neighborhood, his school, and his church. But unless things change pretty dramatically,
and soon, as he matures and ventures out into the world where he is not known, it
is clear that he will be profiled, stopped, searched, hassled, and damaged
because of the color of his skin.
For many black men, the key to self-preservation is zero resistance.
They have cultivated a non-threatening stance, a compliant way of answering
questions, and a submissive attitude when confronted by authorities. It does not matter that they were doing
nothing wrong, and it doesn’t matter whether the authority figure has the right
to confront them, and it doesn’t matter how hostile and inappropriate the
questioning. This is the price their pride must pay, and even with a calm and
cooperative attitude, it is often not enough. Most African-American men (and
women) do not get the chance to encounter a cop and walk away unscathed.
I wonder if I will have to encourage Lewi to be compliant, to
submit to any form of white authority, and to calmly take whatever is hurled at
him just so that he will he be able to walk to the store to buy Skittles. It’s a societally approved form of bullying, and
I never would have asked my other children to tolerate it. I don’t want to
encourage my youngest to be a victim because of the color of his skin.
Kids who are 17 should be able to act like they are 17: a
little reckless, a tiny bit defiant. They should feel invincible. Sadly, we
have learned—repeatedly—that teens are not bullet proof. Today I grieve: over the
tragic death of Trayvon Martin, for a nation where we allow these horrible
events to continue, and for my child, who will face this all too soon. May God
protect him, because I’m not sure anyone else will.
