Tamir Rice

“That there is a lap baby.” My uncle said as he pointed an accusing finger at me. Me and my baby were visiting for the holidays. I’ve learned quickly as a new parent folks always want to offer unsolicited advice. I remember one time running errands. It was nippy out. A lady fussed it was too cold to have a baby outside. I replied “what can ya do.” She was shocked. But moms can’t stay in the house all day. Things need to get done. So just hush.

I shrugged as I bent over to pick up my squealing little one. He sniffed and rubbed his face into my sweater. “What I am supposed to do. Let him cry?” My uncle leaned back into his recliner chair. “You know I raised six kids. Now let me tell you–” I tuned him out. The truth is, my nerves can’t take too much hollering. Plus, I enjoy snuggling with my little one. Especially when I think about the black mothers who aren’t able to hold their babies.

As  folks prepared to bid farewell to 2015, we got the news that the cops who killed 12-year old Tamir Rice would not be indicted. How horrible that a mom was going into the new year without justice for her son. While all the murders of black folks by cops bother me, the deaths of children like Rice and Trayvon Martin, are particularly upsetting. Both were minding their business being kids. It’s disturbing to me they died alone. I’m sure in their final moments they longed for their mothers.

Rice was left to bleed out before he received any medical attention. His sister, who was with him, was restrained from helping her brother. This had to be a frightening experience for both children.

So, while my uncle may harp on about picking up my baby too much. I think about not being able to hold him at all.

Rest in peace Tamir.

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