"Let's see how strong this little 'rebellion' is." I walked to my son's door and knocked. "I know you don't feel like talking to me, but I wanted to let you know there's pie in the kitchen." I set up the plates and took out the pie, and was very happy to hear the creak of his door. -- Anon Guest
Teenagers had to be the most misunderstood age grouping in the world. They were given all the responsibilities of adulthood but one - the responsibility to make their own decisions for themselves. They were expected to act like adults whilst simultaneously being treated like children. Worse, entire crowds of people were smothering them with conflicting instructions, escalating expectations, and endless insultations.
In a period where biology demanded they rest in order to grow and develop, society demanded that they work as if they were already fully grown. The response to science revealing that teenagers operated best later in the morning, that the human brain absorbed information in smaller bites... was to set earlier school hours and longer classes for more hours. Blend all of that with the growing awareness that the previous generation expected them all to fix the world that their elders wrecked... and the famous teen attitude was a natural consequence.
Attitude like the one that came slouching, slinking, resentfully glaring from his room to the kitchen counter stool. It was the sullen smile that broke at the sight of the garnish on the waiting slice of pie. A flag toothpick, bearing a stylised dove with an olive branch on a white field. The parley flag. I said, "I'm listening."
He didn't even last until he got halfway through the slice. "Carrow Anders died, last week."
The most popular kid in the school. The most promising student in the entire school. I hadn't heard. "No. What was it? How did he die?"
I expected something like a car accident or an overdose or maybe some bloody crime, not, "Walking while black."
The same people who protested that slavery ended "five hundred years ago"[1] would also protest that the 'young thug' deserved to be filled with bullets for disrespecting authority. "But he was so careful... I remember that speech..."
My boy chewed on a chunk of beef. "Sweater vests and bow ties ain't bulletproof."
I took a sip of juice to think. "So... that was the exact wrong time to go into the college and future speech."
"Yeah."
"I apologise for my bad timing. If it's any defence, I wasn't aware of the circumstances."
He stabbed a few peas. "Not your fault. Didn't tell you."
I poured him some of that horrible conglomeration of flavours he loved beyond reason. "I'm still listening, if you want to vent."
A deep breath. Tears that he dared not shed in front of his friends. "What's the point? We all try so hard to get out from under and they keep grinding us down, and they always tell everyone we're worse'n animals. They were in fear of their lives, so Carrow deserved to get like five hundred bullets in him just 'cause he was walking..."
I rushed around that counter to hold him tight. Weeping with him. "We all know that cop wasn't scared. He was stupid. Too stupid to know a good young man from a bad one."
"What's the point? He was the best kid in the school and they just-- they shot him for walking wrong. They just--"
"The point is to keep trying. There will come a time when we don't have to work twice as hard to be seen as half as good. A day when we're judged as equals. A day when we're not feared. We have to keep working for that day because they sure as hell won't."
"It's not fair," he mourned.
"I know. It's not fair. We just gotta keep on trying because it's all we got."
[1] True facts: slavery is not over in this sad world. It officially ended in the United States as late as 1990, when Mississippi finally ratified the relevant constitutional amendment. That's not even thirty years ago.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / Tribalium]
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