I Pray My Sons Never Fit the Description

I pray my sons never fit the description.

Please, please, don’t ever let my sons fit the description of a “black man” that is accused of doing anything that may remotely bring them into contact with the police, just because of stereotypes that are placed on black men.

Please don’t let my sons be placed in a situation where they are guilty before any questions are asked of them, simply because of the color of their skin.

It’s so heartbreaking that I have to worry more about my sons as adult men now than when they were young boys. At least, when they were younger, I could somewhat protect them and shield them from some of the evils of the world. Now that they are well into their 20s, I worry.

I worry that my son can be a passenger in a truck with 3 of his friends riding on the Interstate and pulled over and killed by a Deputy Sheriff once he is asked to exit the vehicle (RIP Kenneth B. Walker). This one hit too close to home because it happened right here in my hometown of Columbus, Georgia.

I worry that my sons may be placed in handcuffs, crying out for me while telling the police officer that he can’t breathe because the officer is kneeling on his neck while he’s laying on the street (RIP George Floyd).

I worry that my son can be sitting in his own home and a white female police officer “mistakenly” enters the wrong apartment and kills him (RIP Botham Jean).

I worry that my sons may be pulled over while driving with his girlfriend and her daughter in the car for something as simple as a busted tail light and is shot and killed after telling the officer that he had a gun and was legally authorized to carry. All he did was reach for his identification as instructed by the officer. Taking his last breath while his girlfriend streamed live on Facebook (RIP Philando Castille).

I worry that a Hispanic man may see my son running with a pack of skittles and an Arizona Ice Tea and gun him down simply because “he looks suspicious” (RIP Trayvon Martin).

I worry that a white woman may be walking her dog in the park without a leash and my son asks her to leash the dog as required by park rules and she calls 911 accusing my son of falsely threatening her. (Glad you’re still alive Mr. Christian Cooper).

I worry that my son may be on his job, clearly in uniform and somehow he looks like a “suspicious person or perhaps a burglar” as did the FedEx drivers in Leesburg, GA and they were clearly in FedEx uniform while driving a Fedex truck (Glad you’re still alive Antonio and Felinzay).

It’s just odd that once the suspect is described as a “black male”, everyone somehow becomes intimidated and as a black man, the law is no longer on your side because you’re always viewed as “suspicious.’ Society has placed a negative stigma on black men. I have a grandson and I couldn’t fathom the thought of him growing up, being at a park with a toy gun and the police pull up killing him on sight (RIP Tamir Rice).

Today my oldest son celebrates his 29th birthday. He was diagnosed with diabetes at age 9. Those of you that are familiar with diabetes, will know that if your blood sugar is low, you can sometimes mimic the signs of a drunk person. I worry about him when he is out in public alone, wondering what would happen to him if this happens and the police is called because “he’s acting suspicious”

I’m saddened by the fact that my youngest son, 25 years old, wears a uniform everyday as an U.S. Airman but when he is not in uniform, I worry that he may be out running in the neighborhood and can be gunned down and killed by white men simply because “he looks suspicious” (RIP Ahmaud Arbery)

When did simply just “being a black man” become a crime? Unfortunately, sometimes that crime of blackness can be a death sentence. I am truly appalled at the treatment that black men receive and I am equally as appalled by the racial disparities that exist in our legal system.

Please stop unjustly killing our black men.

Although I pray my sons never “fit the description,” I empathize with all of the black men and their families that have had to experience such traumatic events.

Black Men, I love you.

Angie Stone, “Brotha”: Here

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