Society Killed the Teenager

        

I barely turn on the news and it is only because of things like this. I’m afraid that I’ll find myself listening to tragic events where people like George Zimmerman kill innocent people (in this case a teen) and where young people like Trayvon Martin are killed. 17 year old Trayvon Martin was simply walking in Sanford, Florida, with nothing more than a bag of skittles in his hand, iced tea in the other and a hoodie over his head. However George Zimmerman shot him dead, claiming that the boy looked suspicious and that he only did it in an act of "self-defense".

Prejudice, unfortunately, is a part of our community and society: appearances are judged frequently and this is exactly what Zimmerman did. He judged Trayvon, simply and solely knowing what he looked like.  Prejudice leads to injustice and it is evident when a black male in a hoodie is considered “suspicious” and a threat. It is evident when he is shot and killed, the murderer is not charged with manslaughter and the police department chooses to ignore the case.

The innocent deserve to live; however, sometimes they just don’t. Its the ugly truth, but we, as individuals have responsibilities in impeding events like this from happening. Discrimination shouldn’t be something we act upon,everyone deserves to feel safe and rights should be respected while we do everything we can to prevent harm. Although it isn’t much, it`s all we can do as individuals and all we can do to help.

As a child, i feared things i didn’t understand. I faced fears like monsters under my bed, in my closet, even the thought of a creature coming into my room and taking me away. But what i didn’t understand was that these were only figments that adults would speak of and which i portrayed as malevolent creatures. And if you think about it, adults do the same thing when stereotyping; they create an image for certain people and ,others, unaware, sucumb to believe in such accusations. And this seems to be the case when talking about the murder of Trayvon Martin. George Zimmerman acted upon those accusations;a black male in a hoodie is not automatically a threat. But just like a child, he feared something he did not understand and the result was tragic.

It hurts to know that innocent people are killed on a daily basis. That the world we live in is messed up and we, as individuals cannot change it alone. It’s something we cannot fight and take into our own hands. It hurts us one way or another, and it’s something that I’m afraid to say, will just get worse-- Society. I try to do my best for this world, and i keep my hopes up, waiting for someone, something to come along, to change people. Create a world where prejudice, racism and discrimination are absent and where equality, rights and freedom aren’t JUST things we claim to have, but truly are concepts our society is based on. But me, I’m one person in this planet, a planet that holds over another billion just like me.  There really  isn’t any other  way to put it-- this world is messed up, and things like these just reinforce my point.

To Kill a Mockingbird: Anything But Usual

Later that winter Ms. Radley died; however it was barely a calamity as no one in town seemed to be affected in anyways. When Atticus came back from the Radley house Jem encourages me to ask about Mr. Arthur. I was meticulous to ask and right to do so knowing that interrogating Atticus wouldn’t get me anywhere but in trouble. But Jem pushed me and I said before, it got us nowhere.

            Bizarrely, the usual, sweltering weather in Maycomb County was absent and instead we received what I thought to be the end of the world—Snow. It worked in my favor though, getting us successfully out of school for the entire day ahead. With no school to shackle us to a day of boredom Jem took this time to make nothing more than a snowman.

            With the cold providing an imminent death for Miss Maudies plants, there was no dissension when Jem retrieved all of the remaining snow from her yard. But refusing to tell me or Miss Maudie what his exact intention was for the snow, it was only obvious he was conspiring to make more than just a common snowman.

As time elapsed and Jem’s creation was completed, I began to apprehend that he had made nothing more than an explicit snowman along the lines of Mr. Avery’s image. Atticus, however, asked Jem to make the similarities somewhat discrete, which only led to Jem taking Miss Maudies hat, and when putting it on the snowman, creating our very own Morphodite for our backyard.

Later that day the temperature dropped and with that I fell asleep, but in what seemed to be only minutes late I was woken up by Atticus’ voice. We ran out, assimilating into the crowd surrounding Miss Maudies house which was in flames. Atticus  ordered us to over to the Radley’s house, away from the anarchy that had seemed to commence as the town crowded, everyone trying to catch a glimpse.

I, unlike the others, couldn’t watch; Miss Maudie was the only woman I could lionize, with other women, Miss Stephanie Crawford setting the example, there wasn’t many other options anyways. She was the only one I truly respected and the thought of her house in flames terrified me.

At dawn, after they assured the fire was out and Miss Maudie was okay we headed back home where Atticus pointed out the quilts over our shoulders. Although he was not mad, Jem acted as if he was being arraigned, as if being sentenced guilty for leaving the Radley place. He had gone mad defending himself, stating he had done nothing but follow Atticus’ instructions. Later on though, we came to the conclusion that there was only one person who was at the fire, only one person could have supplies is with the quilts—Boo Radley.

Dear Lily

Dear Lily,

I know it is peculiar to write twice to you in a week, but a bizarre feeling came over me, and I felt the urge to write once again.

            Over here it is complete chaos. The court has gone into a state of anarchy. The number of occurring calamities is becoming larger and more frequent. Several people­­–more than the usual–have been arraigned and apprehended for committing crimes that I know for a fact they didn’t do. It hurts to see cells of prison filled with innocent people. Even with people like me as lawyers the injustice we saw everyday when we were children still occurs. I should have known that assimilating into a group of people who call themselves impartial, and are nothing but that, would not be imminent.

            But, that isn’t the reason why the urge to write to you came. I understand now that a type of anger has been building up inside me; that the dissensions that I face everyday at court and the interrogations that are now meant to attack innocent people have been affecting me more then I would like. Lily, I’m not the same boy who promised he would come back for you 20 years ago.

            So when I heard about you father–his death– I went back to those sweltering summer days when we would sit far out by the river and you would go on about the cruel man he was. How, at first, your mother had loved him and he had thought so much of her, lionized her. But as the years passed he stopped being the sweet, meticulous man who paid attention to everything your mother did, and started to become the T-ray you knew. You said it was because of building anger–anger that I, now feel.

            For that reason, I do not think you or I should continue writing. I do not want to become T-ray–I don’t want you to become your mother. I don’t want years to elapse and with them, our love for each other. I want to think back and remember Lily, the girl I loved; not Lily, the girl to which I was only a shackle.

            I love you more than you can imagine and although this is the final letter, it is not the final time I will think about you.

Sincerely,

Zach