Trayvon Martin's demise pains a reality we've yet to grapple with
Martin's surname is often omitted in many black communities nationwide. Simply uttering "Trayvon" conjures memories of trauma, sorrow, and grief.
Peniel Joseph
Following his untimely death, I often reminisced on this sadness in conversations with students, friends, and family. In the Black community, the name "Trayvon" has transformed into a one-word poem, stirring up a bittersweet sense of connectedness. This emotion encapsulates not only the painful loss of another Black life but also our collective efforts to safeguard it.
Martin was but a sweet-looking 17-year-old Black teenager, paying a visit to his father in Florida, when George Zimmerman, a self-appointed neighborhood watchman, opened fire with a weapon ten years ago. That weapon took his life. Zimmerman's claim of self-defense under Florida's "Stand Your Ground" law, allowing citizens to employ deadly force in any situation where they feel threatened – even if they provoked the situation that put their lives in danger – ultimately resulted in Zimmerman's acquittal.
As the years pass, we still remember "Trayvon" within significant moments echoing today. President Joe Biden's historic appointment of Ketanji Brown Jackson as the first Black woman to serve on the Supreme Court in September is also a reminder of how powerful racial progress can be marred by pervasive racial trauma. Indeed, nearly nine months after Martin's death, Obama was reelected in 2012.
Three white men convicted of murdering Ahmaud Arbery in Georgia were likewise sentenced for hate crimes yesterday. Three former Minneapolis police officers were found guilty of denying George Floyd his civil rights in May, for failing to intervene while their former colleague, Derek Chauvin, knelt on Floyd's neck for nearly ten minutes before ultimately killing him, despite Chauvin's indifference to Floyd's medical needs.
"It's only about accountability, but it can never be justice since I'll never get George back," Philonise Floyd, Floyd's brother, said yesterday. And he was right. The moment Martin was killed, it unleashed an eternal sense of estrangement from justice, inspiring many of us to act.
However, Martin's murder unfolded amidst a climate of racially charged political instability. Barack Obama – our first Black president – had traversed a tremendous political tightrope during his tenure. The mere existence of Obama was a testament to the extraordinary progress of racial equality, just as Martin's death exposed how far our country had yet to go. In less than a month following Martin's demise, Obama addressed the media at the White House Rose Garden to share his condolences.
Martin's death sparked nationwide media coverage, public outrage, and comparisons to the murder of Emmett Till - a 14-year-old Black teenager from Chicago who was brutally murdered in Mississippi by racist terrorists in 1955, after supposedly making uncouth remarks to a white woman. "If I had a son, he would look like Trayvon," Obama said once.
Obama's words stirred controversy among some critics who argued that his attempts to express sympathy for the lost life of a Black teenager unjustly burdened the weight of his presidency on the scales of justice. They have no reason to worry, however. A jury took less than two and a half days to acquit Zimmerman in 2013.
In the wake of this shock, anger, and despair, Alicia Garza, a 32-year-old activist living in Oakland, California at the time, shared an emotive Facebook post. Inspired by Martin's tragic death, she directly linked it to the celebratory moment of his passing. She wrote, "Our lives matter." Garza's friend, Patrisse Cullors, an activist from Los Angeles, read the post and transformed the three simple words into the #BlackLivesMatter hashtag.
Opal Tometi, an immigration activist based in Brooklyn, is also part of the trio of Black activists who help amplify and organize the #BlackLivesMatter movement. The movement gained significant traction in the summer following the killing of Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri in 2014 and the killing of George Floyd by Derek Chauvin in 2020, sparking a global frenzy once more.
Martin's death certainly marked a turning point. Yet, it is also a pause, a moment of self-reflection. In this summer of 2013, Zimmerman was acquitted, and the Supreme Court ruled 5-4 in Shelby v. Holder that Congress lacks the constitutional power to enforce Section 5 of the Voting Rights Act. This was an illegal decision that culminated in an avalanche of laws limiting voting rights and altering the face of American politics through suppression and gerrymandering.
The end of the Voting Rights Act (effective from 1965 to 2013) signaled the end of an era of controversial national consensus on racial justice in American history. Activists within the Black Lives Matter movement foresaw this development. They recognize that the old rules – rules that emerged during civil rights demonstrations and protests led by Rosa Parks, Martin Luther King Jr., and other trailblazers – will no longer apply in the same manner. The loss of bipartisan support for fundamental voting rights can be seen in both transparent legislative and judicial actions and in the callous discrimination faced by grassroots Black Power activists. Martin died in a country that reelected Obama but proved incapable of holding anyone responsible for the life of a 17-year-old Black teenager who had visited his father in Florida. Obama vigilantly argued that Martin was in some way aproxy relative of his, making it a concern of the entire American family. The strange calamity that has befallen this nation.
In the ensuing decade, the failed outcome of accountability – and the unsettling realization that accountability can never truly feel like justice – has only deepened. Who could have foreseen the ascent of Donald Trump as President in 2012, the increased threats from white supremacist and white nationalist groups, and the storming of the nation's capital on January 6, 2021? But if we're honest with ourselves, the seeds of our toxic present polarization and misinformation were sown in the political upheaval of the past decade, as the death of an innocent Black teenager became the backdrop for two replacement candidates at a time of conflicting and divergent visions of America.
