On Monday, the Chicago Police Department held a press conference with the latest information on the murder of 9-year-old Antonio Smith. Like everyone else, I saw the headlines on various news sites and social media platforms, but it took me until late afternoon to get the nerve to click on the link and read the article. Four young Black men between the ages of 19 and 22 were responsible for gunning down a boy just 10 years their junior in an alley as he made the trek to his grandmother’s house with his basketball. I forced myself to look at their young faces, disconnected expressions in their mug shots, all hard masculinity pushing through teenage features that can’t buy a six-pack of beer legally. My heart broke as I read the report detailing how these young Black men killed another young Black boy because they thought he was warning another gang member they were coming to kill him.
As a mother of a young Black boy, and a sister to a young Black man and a friend to a number of young Black men, I felt a flood of emotions. Fear of violence one day visiting my own son, anger at these young men who have no moral conscious or empathy for human life and confusion at why there is no outcry from my community, my country. Black lives matter, right?
Chicago is an urban myth at this point when it comes to Black on Black violence. So many young Black men dying at the hands of other young Black men that it’s mind-blowing. Aside from the murder rate, the school system has been exposed with teachers boycotting for weeks a few years ago because the system was so corrupt and ineffective. Poverty stricken, and educational opportunities abandoned, it feels like the African American community has thrown its hands up at the state of emergency that is Chicago. No marches, no protests, no hashtags. The only advice I see shared is “Get out!” If everyone leaves, the remnants will eventually kill each other and we can move on with our #blacklivesmatter hashtag.
While these stories make the news occasionally, there is no outcry, no protests, no angst. I’m assuming because there is no racial motivation which incites political motivation. So, it seems the only time the media and even other Blacks care about a young Black boy dying is if it’s at the hands of a white man. If the death is at the hands of one that looks like the victim, then it’s business as usual.
Aside from the absence of the Black Lives Matter chants, I wonder where is the political activism. Didn’t President Obama declare that the US military would remain in Iraq because it’s not safe for the natives without military presence? What about Chicago? Is there no way for our government to assist in the gang wars that are pitting young people burdened by generational poverty and violence without that audacity of hope President Obama spoke of in his race for office against one another? On the contrary, these young men have been taught that there is no way out of their environment and their lives have no value, so killing a mirror image of themselves is the easiest way to self-destruct.
As a Black woman, I feel helpless. I feel angry. I feel saddened. I feel fiercely protective over my own son and secretly glad that I don’t have any additional seeds in this world that is so contradictory when it comes to its concern for Black men. The truth is, I don’t know what the answers are, but I do know that there isn’t much difference between Antonio Smith and his attackers Jabari Williams, Derrick Allmon, Michael Baker or Paris Denard. I also know that there is little difference between my 18-year-old son and these young men, besides opportunity, education and hope. I know that I live in a country that can enforce safety for the people of other nations, but for some reason is unable to attempt to do the same for its citizens that are Black and poor. Lastly, I know that as a Black woman, I am a part of a community that is much more powerful than we acknowledge. If only our community truly believed Black lives matter, Chicago may have a fighting chance.
