What That Trayvon Martin Costume Says About Your Idea of a ‘Post-Racial’ America

Black face Trayvon Martin costume with George Zimmerman counterpart.

Shame on us for expecting more.

Shame on us for not protecting ourselves

for forgetting that this shame doesn’t sleep.

Shame on us for opening our Internet browsers, obviously.

Shame on us for getting out of bed.

Shame on us for forgetting that our life is someone else’s costume,

for forgetting that it’s fun and edgy for someone else to wear our face but damning for us to wear our face

Shame on us.

Have you ever noticed how the largest things are always more frightened of the smaller things than they are of it?

George Zimmerman costume.

You pose like a proud tusk of streetlight for those Instagram photos.

Did your friends laugh and say, “You looked so much like a monster, I almost didn’t know it was you.”

Great job.

Trayvon Martin costume.

Did you feel like you belonged when your friends posed their hands like guns?

Did the gas station attendant?

The other people in the other cars on your way to the party?

Did they look at you like you were something ugly?

Like they didn’t want you.

Did you feel like you belonged to something ugly?

Did you make someone else buy your beer, Skittles, and iced tea for you?

Were you afraid of the night wearing that hoody, boy, tell me?

Did you happen to see any black people at the party and tell them, “Not to worry.”

That you make fun of all races the same.

That just last year you dressed as a white kindergartner from Connecticut with a black hole in her head?

Did you?

Did you tell them that we’re not special?

That you always dress as someone else’s tragedy?

I saw the pictures and shame wasn’t even a shadow in the room.