The right to panic

This post isn't about running or general health and wellbeing, but there is definitely the presence of a psychological sickness that needs to be unveiled.

I vividly remember my mother--after telling my brothers that they weren't allowed to dress like Kris Kross--saying to me with a panic in her voice that my brothers "don't understand they can't dress that way". In that panicked voice she expressed her fears of her sons being what she called "marked".

I remember when I was stopped by a cop who first accused me of stealing my car, then said I smelled like drugs, then accused me of being drunk. After I demanded his badge number, he wrote me a ticket for speeding. I remember a year later, his wife waiting for me outside of a church and in her panicked voice expressing concern that he had "done something" to me because according to her, he "does things like that".

I remember my brother coming to my home one night because he promised to look at my tires. He walked from my mom's home to mine, which is a block in distance. This street was one of the routes we took every year as kids when we went trick-or-treating. I remember the look of pain and anger on his face. He told me that he had been stopped and questioned to why he was out walking in the neighborhood where he grew up.

I remember last night feeling a sick relief that I have no children, because I can't imagine the panic so many mothers were feeling.

When you are profiled, your life is in danger because the type of people that profile have already justified to themselves that they have the right to hurt you. The verdict for the Zimmerman trial has expanded the realm of profilers. Now civilians have permission to profile.

So don't you dare tell me not to be angry, and don't you dare tell me not to panic.