The Privilege to Say 'I Remember When' -- Tamir Rice Can't Say This

As a kid, I did my share of foolishness--sometimes daring, plain stupid, and mischievous. As an adult and mother of an 8 year old daughter, I look back on those times and am grateful for all of the "bullets" I dodged.

On the West side of Chicago, my cousins and I would stock our grandparent's basement with bike parts and create entire bikes from scratch without the proper knowledge of safely assembling them.

I remember when I took bike of choice, one assembled without breaks, for a ride from our Austin neighborhood to neighboring Oak Park. My friends and I, all on makeshift bikes, road sporadically and dangerously through the streets enjoying the freedom of summer. Our intention was innocent, but as I narrowly dodged oncoming traffic, using my feet as a break, I realized the danger in my innocent adventure.

I remember when my friends and I would ring the doors of random neighbors' doors, a game we labeled "Ding Dong Ditch." We laughed as we ran away from frustrated people having been disturbed by mischievous kids. Trespassing onto someone's property and disturbing their night were definitely a few of the problems with such behavior. And as an adult, I clearly see this.

I also remember when we used to sit on my grandmother's roof, unbeknownst to her, shooting water guns filled with strange concoctions at people as they passed by.

Thankfully, I was able to move forward, graduate from high school and college, become a productive member of society, and survive my childhood blunders. Thank God I can say "I remember when."

Living in the inner-city at the time, my neighborhood was plagued with problems: gun violence, drug dealing, and drug use. However, as children my friends and I played tag, jump roped, played basketball, had dance parties, and of course, sometimes got in trouble as many kids do, whether from an affluent community or the inner city. And as I look at the killings of black children by hands of authority, I wonder when black children became moving targets devoid of human redemption?

Tamir Rice and other black youth gunned down by authority is horrific and unjustifiable. One situation that comes to mind when wondering how situations can be handled better by police is police stopping a person from committing suicide, even though this person is willfully trying to end their own life. In the case of the person attempting suicide, law enforcement displays a respect for the value of life. A two second evaluation, the amount of time it took Tamir Rice to be shot, does not show concern or value of a life.

What about de-escalation?

What about sedation?

What about redemption?

What lesson did this youth learn in this interaction?

Why doesn't he get the chance like many of us to say, "I remember when"?

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