A murder was committed this past weekend. The victim was 17 years old and unarmed. He pled for his life with hands in the air, only to be shot down execution style and left lying on the ground for 4 hours. His name was Michael Brown and his killer was an officer of the law.
Normally, I don’t like to publicly comment on these things. But this time is different. (more…)
Last week my older sister and I decided to go see the new film “Fruitvale Station.” As soon as I’d seen a preview for it earlier this year, I knew I would go see it in theatres during its opening weekend. One reason for committing myself to this film was because I was familiar with the case prior to the film’s debut. I’d researched Oscar Grant’s homicide case – as well as a number of others – during my freshman year for an essay on modern-day Black genocide for my African-American Studies class. I also wanted to make sure I saw it during it’s opening weekend because I wanted to show major production companies and distributors that films like these can be blockbusters, just as much as films like The Dark Knight.
For the last 10 minutes of the movie, there was complete and utter silence. It was as if everyone in that theatre put their popcorn and drinks aside, sat completely still, fixed their eyes to the screen and silently wept. And as the film’s credits began to roll and everyone started filing out of the theatre, I couldn’t help but feel a somber and questioning presence amongst everyone. This was understandable though, with the film being so emotional and heart wrenching. I even walked out with my heart heavy, and my mind racing, even though I’d read about this story over a year ago. But as we all walked out in silence, I looked in the faces of some of those people, and the thoughts running through their heads became so clear through their eyes:
“Wow! That was so sad. I can’t believe it. I feel for Wanda and Tatiana and Sophina and all of Oscar’s family and friends. How could that have happened!? Wow! … So what now?”