god stuff

by: Melinda N. Gainer For the past few days, I have watched my newsfeed flood (almost assaulted) with video, written stories, and pictures regarding the heinous murder of this baby-faced, seventeen year old, black male. I’ve read the banter among my Facebook friends and their friends, I’ve witnessed the support for rallies and have read numerous blogs all surrounding this injustice…I’ve said nothing. Not because this situation is not worth talking about, but because this situ

I listened to the 911 call that records young Trayvon’s last moments before he was premeditatedly murdered in cold-blood.  A neighbor, after hearing repeated cries for help, did her part to help by calling 911. If you listen carefully in the background, you can hear Trayvon desperately pleading for anybody to step in and do something to help him and save his life. It’s heartbreaking. It’s frustrating. It’s angering. The reason it’s so angering is because when you contrast the

The story has become an American classic. We’ve heard variations of it before. Once upon a time, a white man admitted to killing a Black boy. The 250 pound 28 year old claims he was defending himself against a 140 pound 17 year old carrying skittles and a can of iced tea. Police cannot find evidence to suggest that the white man is lying—even though everybody else sees it. Lawyers busy themselves preparing arguments. Black parents claim racism. Protests and press conferences