Going to college, starting a career, and getting married can be a parent’s dream come true for their child. However, the fear of losing their sons to police violence obscures those dreams.
Names like Trayvon Martin, Michael Brown and Tamir Rice have sparked much conversation about the relationship between Black men and police, but these names have also initiated a different conversation within the home of Black families.
According to data collected by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, roughly 3 out of 4 of those killed by police officers in 2014 were Black.
Tyler Payne, a sophomore telecommunications major, thinks back to the summertime when his grandmother had a nightmare about him being shot and killed. In the dream, she was at his funeral looking at her young grandson lying cold and dead in a casket.
“It was kind of sad, I’m not gonna lie,” said Payne. “My grandma shouldn’t be having any dreams like that.”
Growing up, Payne’s grandmother told him on numerous occasions to be careful about the clothes that he wore and about being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The fact that he is now an adult in college hasn’t change that.
Payne has seen the recent police shootings in the media and he doesn’t notice much of a difference between his appearance and the appearance of the Black men being killed.
“She (Payne’s grandmother) shouldn’t have to think about that, but it is a possibility,” Payne said.
According to a Pew Research study conducted in 2015, 4 in 10 Black parents worry about their children being shot while white parents worry more about children struggling with depression and anxiety or drugs and alcohol. Even in urban communities where shootings are common, Black parents are still more worried that their children will be shot than white parents.
Cordelia Thomas, mother of Ball State student Kyle Smith, says she’s been there. She doesn’t have to watch the news to see the dangers that Black men face because the reality of it is all around her.
“It’s very nerve wracking every day for a Black mother raising a Black son,” Thomas said.
When Thomas’ son was younger he went to a party on a side of town that wasn’t his own.
“People know who belongs in the neighborhood,” Thomas said.
Some boys who lived in the area began to threaten Thomas’ son.
Instantly, Thomas’ motherly instincts kicked in.
She told her son to stay put.
Thomas got in the driver’s seat of her car and sped through the Chicago streets, even driving on the sidewalk at times as if her car was equipped with flashing lights and a loud siren.
In that moment, Thomas became both mother and first responder. She arrived on the scene and she admits that as her son got in the car to go home, she began to curse at the boys who threatened her child.
Taking matters into her own hands seemed like the most natural thing to do for Thomas in that moment. These boys could have been capable of anything, yet Thomas felt like she needed to confront them as if she wore a bullet proof vest and a badge that demanded respect.
The first instinct for this mother of color wasn’t to call the police to protect her son in this dangerous situation.
In her mind, she was her son’s only option.
“You don’t trust them,” Thomas said. “You have no faith in them. That’s not even my first thought.”
According to a Gallup poll conducted from 2011 to 2014, only 37 percent of black people have a great deal of confidence in police compared to 59 percent of whites who trust law enforcement.
Kyle Smith, Thomas’ son and a senior telecommunications major at Ball State, says he has had run ins with Chicago police on multiple occasions.
“It makes me feel kind of inhumane in a way,” Smith said. “There’s a lot of times that I question am I even a human being?”
Smith and a few of his cousins were walking to the corner store in a predominantly Black neighborhood, Smith says as the group was walking the police sirens turned on and two officers stopped them on the sidewalk.
There was a robbery in the area and police were on the hunt for the suspect, but the boys never knew what the description of that suspect was.
“They described you and pointed to my cousin,” Smith said.
Two teenage boys, a teenage girl and a 10-year-old were all asked to place their hands on the patrol car.
Confused, they all complied. After being frisked and handcuffed everyone was released except for one cousin who appeared to match the description given to police.
“When it comes to Black neighborhoods, anybody can be a suspect,” said Smith.
The 15-year-old cousin who matched the description of the robber was taken into custody for questioning that day and stayed for up to two days before he was released according to Smith.
The lack of trust that many in the Black community have for police officers has resulted in worried parents giving advice that could not only keep their children out of handcuffs, but it could also be the same advice that saves their son’s lives.
Smith says his mother taught him to never pull over for police until he is in a location that is well-lit with plenty of witnesses.
Amy Petts, a sociology professor at Ball State, says it’s equally important for parents to teach African-American men what it means to be African-American men.
“In society we see a step back from that where we want to live in a color blind society but the research has shown teaching young minorities, especially African-American men, that these inequalities exist actually enables them to have more success in the future than ignoring those,” said Petts.
Linda Powell, whose son is a criminal justice major at Ball State, understands why black parents fear for their sons in this world, but she has made a vow not to allow fear to consume her life.
“I choose not to live in fear, not of another human being,” said Powell. “Is it frightening? Sure. But you can’t stop living due to the fear.”
