I am taken aback. The death of Michael Brown, a 17-year-old African-American male said to be heading to college on Monday, indubitably brings a certain sense of loss. Not too long ago I too was leaving home for the first time to attend college and to perhaps become a notable distinction in my family.
I feel quite shaken, because, perhaps this young black boy could have been me if only I had been at the wrong place at the wrong time. How could this happen?
Brown was said to be unarmed when he was killed.
He was shot multiple times in his head and chest when a Ferguson police officer opened fire, there was instant and fair outrage by family members and friends at the scene, and riot-control officers and attack dogs were sent to help avoid further exclamation.
I remember my move-in day process the university held for incoming freshmen and transfer students at Central State, the black college of my choice coming out of high school. It was around this time four years ago.
I can only imagine how the family of Brown must feel right now…
Michael Brown can never get the chance to tell momma he made it, and the incredible feeling it must feel to walk across a stage as a graduate of the class of 2018.
I wish I could help to end their grief over their lost child, Michael Brown, who now is remembered as a son, a cousin, a friend, a Black teenager—at the wrong place at the wrong time…
But also I feel a loss of hope. One has to question if this country is prisoners of violence and death.
So much the better for us, if continued to be lead down such a slippery slope made by continual treading.
