By Tre Gabriel
Flawless Fellow
July 13th, 2013 is a day that I will never forget. It’s the day that I can say truly changed my life forever. It’s the day a naive young boy opened his eyes to the reality of the world we live in. It’s the day those pictures in the history book no longer became history, but the present. It’s the day I heard the words “not guilty” and saw a man walk free after killing an unarmed black teenager.
Travyon Martin was a 17-year old black man who was walking home when he was approached by George Zimmerman. George Zimmerman made it home that night and Trayvon did not. Trayvon played football just like I did. His name was so similar to mine. His features were so similar to mine. His skin was so similar to mine. Now I feared his reality would be similar to mine. It started with Trayvon, then there was 12-year old Tamir Rice, then Eric Garner, then Sandra Bland, then Ahamud Arbery, then George Floyd… then Tre Gabriel?
With every new name brought the same nauseating feeling. It’s gotten to the point that I can’t even watch the videos anymore, and I still haven’t watched the sickening video of George Floyd in its entirety. Because why should I? I have already watched it a hundred times. The only difference is the name and the person in the video, but the outcome is the same: unarmed black people losing their lives, and those that took their lives not being prosecuted for it. In a country and world that adopts black culture, idolizes black athletes, and loves black musicians – why does it seem like our lives are valueless? We are tired and we are hurting.
But despite this, I do see a silver lining. As divided as our country feels right now, with protests in so many cities, for the first time I think the majority of the nation has seen a horrible video and felt disgusted by it. I do feel a positive change happening. In my earlier years around the death of Trayvon Martin, I deliberately cut ties to dear friends to preserve my own emotional well-being when they could not (or chose not to) try to understand why each of these deaths shook me to my core. The road to justice is a long one, but I feel a sense of unity and hope as the people that are outraged are not just the ones that look like me anymore. It’s not just the people who look at a Breonna Taylor or a Philando Castile and know that it could easily be them.
For those of you who, maybe for the first time are starting to understand the power of your privilege, for those of you who maybe, for the first time, are sickened by what an iPhone video clip showed you, or for the first time you feel provoked to take action, I say to you: We need you. We need your love, we need your support, we need your voice, we need your listening ears and shoulders to cry on. While my cries seemingly fall on deaf ears and my tears are seen with blind eyes, there seems to be power in unity that could spark the beginning of the end. But we need this to last; let this not be just a moment in time, but a transformative movement for real change. Because while my role in this fight began on July 13th, 2013, my parents started theirs on March 3, 1991, when Rodney King was violently beaten by LAPD officers during his arrest. And their parents started long before then.
I recognize that 2020 has undoubtedly been one of the toughest years in our lives. With wildfires in Australia, the sudden death of sports icon Kobe Bryant, the COVID-19 pandemic, a crashing economy, and now civil unrest across the nation, it can feel like we’re starring in a dystopian movie. Now more than ever it is important that we take care of each other, and take care of ourselves. Feel your feelings, process your emotions, practice great self-care, and remain grateful for everything and everyone in your life worth appreciating. We will get through this – all of this – together. One moment at a time. One day at a time.
