Before we commence with our monotony –our Smartphone
lives- we must acknowledge that Tyshawn Lee was a living soul. He was a human
being, not another one of the numerous murder victims that threatens the
civility of Chicago. There is nothing civil about assassination.
Tyshawn was a little boy, innocent, probably a good
student who loved to play. All kids want to play. Sadly, playing in a city that has been seized by gang violence is an act
of Russian roulette.
Next, we have to apologize to Tyshawn Lee, to the
children who have been retaliatory targets - and we may as well apologize to
the other men, women and children who will be terminated by this year’s gun
violence that is primarily playing
out on the Southside of Chicago, the black urban center that functions as a War
Zone. Without a doubt and with all certainty, there will be more young black
persons discarded like an Old English forty ounce bottle by someone that shares
Tyshawn’s dark pigmentation, a black person.
The obvious is among African Americans while the
ignored is the obvious. Blacks killing blacks is not an orchestrated conspiracy
controlled by white people used to hoodwink black people into believing that
crime is unique to them. Black on black crime is a reality, it is not something
that should be ignored because the obvious is appalling, we (black people) kill
each other at an alarming rate. Tyshawn Lee was the latest sport-kill by
America’s latest creation, The Black Ku Klux Klan.
The Apology
Dear Tyshawn,
As the physical form of your existence is rolled
into a packed church with mourners, I would like to extend my apology…an
apology that long after you are gone will be a web-based (blog) testament of my
ongoing disappointment - and an additional documentary of a sadness that I
cannot shake. The image of your face is what I see in my sleep…in my fading hopes
and in my elusive faith. It is this faith that is synonymous with Losing the Battle.
Failure is what we have to live with, Tyshawn…we failed you. Me. Your parents. Your
community. Your neighborhood. Your school. Every single African American failed
you. We failed when we have all the tangibles and intangibles to win.
Protecting you from a world that seems to be void of
respect and honor for children is a battle that I am sick and tired of
fighting. I am overwhelmed by the sullied Souls of Black Folks. You did not
deserve our Failure.
I am sorry, Tyshawn.
As I sit here looking over the landscape of middle
school students, I am bewildered, melancholy, depressed, defeated, and tearful of
the thought of your last moments. The intense fear you must have felt. The
shock you were faced with that led to your acceptance of your fate must have
been horrifying. I can't imagine that terror.
Tyshawn, I am sorry.
I am sorry that no one with decency was in that
dreadful space to protect you from the deprived emotionalism of humankind, your
assassins.
I am sorry, Tyshawn.
I am sorry as the result of your death that I am
coming closer to confirming that God has left the most vulnerable...YOU. Children. The unshakeable
faith that I once had has dwindled. It is not a flickering light that once
guided me. It is, no more…
My wandering mind wants to know what will become of
your death besides an ersatz memorial in an alley…in a locale that insulates
the decadences of an infiltrated community, a gang haven. An alley is where you
met your Maker. Perhaps, there is a necessary symbolism that needs to be
highlighted.
Tyshawn, an alley is a narrow open structure that
has an entrance and an exit. Many of us enter life to serve a purpose. Life is
the alley. It is an opportunity for us to get it right before we have to exit.
Leave this earth. The hermeneutic transfer has not entered and it has not
exited. Tyshawn, your people remain in an alley…we are Wanderers wondering what
to do…we are the children of Israel, lost, beaten, defeated. Your people are
not seeking to exit.
That there is the symbolism. We have become Alley People.
I am just sorry, Tyshawn.
Someone told me that I cannot continue to allow
situations beyond my control to affect me. Your death has changed me – I need
for you to give me an Exit Strategy so that I will not be positioned in this
alley for a lengthy time in mourning. Mourning…is where I have been for a long
time.
Help, Tyshawn…help me be Free
-Muata Nowe
