Today Trayvon would turn 19. It would’ve been his last year as a teenager, but instead he died one. At the risk of perpetuating a cliché, but an apropos one regardless, he will forever be young to us. It will remain a mystery if or when he would’ve shed the hoodie for a suit and tie. If he survived that horrible ordeal, how altered would he be? What would  his ambitions be? We all know those questions will never get answers nor will the ones for Jordan Davis. 

But that doesn’t mean we have to forget.  I remember not long ago Trayvon Martin remembrances were flooding my Facebook and Instagram news feeds. Now, you’re lucky if you get a blurb in a local newspaper. We are all guilty of a short memory (*hand raised*) and I don’t fault anyone for that. But, my fear is this will be the “new normal,” stand your ground will be the new lynching. And we’ve come to far, our forebears have sacrificed to much for us to journey backward, away from our rights to exist. To wear whatever we want on a drizzly night and feel secure enough in getting home safely. Play music as loud as we want without worrying about getting shot as a result of its volume. Seeking help and shelter with neighbors without fear of being looked at as a threat.

It’s not asking to much. To want to see your brown-skinned child grow up to be an adult. It may be Trayvon’s birthday, but that’s my wish for my unborn child and us all.

UPDATE: Sybrina Fulton posted this custom image up on her Twitter page.