Ace's View

Dedicated to minority issues, topics and everything in between

On Neverland, Chi-raq, and Black Apathy

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I’m a big fan of memes (when done correctly), and there was one a few months back that seems particularly fitting for what I’m about to write.

The story of Peter Pan was in one, with someone’s take on the tale that Pan was, in fact, an angel who escorted the children off to a world beyond this one (Neverland) where they never grew up, because they were already dead.  Thus, they were perpetually stuck forever in childhood.

The meme ended with another cartoon with the caption “Boom. Childhood Ruined.”

And it all seems to make so much sense lately.


This post wasn’t meant to be a response to 9-year old Tyshawn Lee’s murder.

Or, a few miles away in the same city, the murder of Kaylyn Miller, a 20-year old aspiring model.

Or Spike Lee’s release of the “Chi-raq” trailer, less than 24 hours after the death of both of the aforementioned, which is garnering more controversy than anything he’s done in quite some time.

No, this wasn’t intended to be a post about anything, because I wasn’t going to write anything.

Please understand, my hands have grown tired of typing blog posts that will be forgotten until the next child is murdered.

My mind is filled with the faces of children who never had the chance to grow up.  And although I’m sure my brain can hold more than I can imagine, it sure feels like I’m running out of real estate to house them all.

Worst of all, my soul is becoming more and more numb to these deaths, which is probably all by design.

So forgive me if this isn’t as cohesive as it should be, but I’m…

Tired.  Of all of it.

Which leads me back to this:

I was fortunate enough to be in a location at work today where I had my laptop with me, but no wi-fi signal.

I say fortunate, because the discussion I followed on one of my friend’s Facebook feed became so volatile that I was just glad I wasn’t able to view it on a larger screen, lest I be able to see the indifference of some people and the misdirection of others to the suffering of our people in my home city.

Now, this friend of mine I’ve discussed in this blog on several different occasions.  If anybody loves and overstands black people and all of the strengths and faults we have as a nation within this nation, it’s her.

And yet, I’ve seen the same numbness and fatigue making its way into her posts lately.  I recognize it as my own.

Sometimes it feels like the battle we fight by trying to save those who reflect us is fruitless and bears no real purpose other than to give us something to do.

And then, I see her follow these posts with a proud post of something about how her daughter reflects her, whether it be in fashion or knowledge.

About how her son applies a lesson she instilled in him at some point either long ago or recently in his young life.

About how her kids keep her going.

And then I am reminded of why I hurt when my city hurts:

Because these kids are ours.

These kids are us.

When the community we live in is falling apart and people start typing out solutions that involve bringing in more police, more National Guardsmen, more gun restrictions, more…

I notice that no one ever says, what about more hope for these kids?

How about more value on life and those that look like you and yours?

When will we take one of them under our wing and do all we can to keep these kids out of harm’s way?

If there are truly more of us than there are those who have ill intent, shouldn’t this be simple?

Of course it’s never that easy.  Nothing worth having and keeping ever is.

But it seems to be all we have.

This isn’t a fairy tale or a movie.  There is no perpetual childhood, even, as far as we know, those who catch bullets earlier than our earthly minds can imagine.

What this is should be a call to action for the rest of us left on this coil to do all that we can to turn this fearlessness that we seem to have for each other and direct it towards the system that placed us here to profit from us and discard us after we’re used up.

We are less than a month removed from the “Justice…Or Else” movement that culminated with thousands gathered in Washington, D.C., so here’s what I’m suggesting:

We reach out to these young folks, one at a time, at least, and find out what we can do to help them, individually.

Again, this won’t be easy to do, and I’m open to any positive suggestions as to how.

But I am more than willing to put forth the energy that I have left into this, rather than typing more eulogies for children and young men and women who will never grow old.

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Written by aceviewblogger

November 3, 2015 at 10:57 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

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