Racial Trauma is Real

Yesterday, I stood near several students explaining directions, when two (white) men came to my classroom entrance with what (in the end) turned out to be a handheld measuring tool. It was black with a dull shine. A laser dot emitted and the line went towards the window. The men said nothing to me, not to my students — just aim, point and go. The student nearest to me suddenly moved, which prompted me to stop and capture the scene he was witnessing, all of which occurred probably within the span of 60 seconds. What happened afterwards gave me pause.

The student, who happens to be an African-American teenager, made comments to me and his classmates about what he thought was taking place. A gun, two cops, a shooting about to occur. He did his best to downplay the incident with humor. He then put his hand on his chest and said to me, “Yo, Miss____. My heart is beating so fast right now. I need a minute.”

My heart nearly broke.

Even as I write this, I am angered and I am sad and I am furious —my body contains this one unnameable pulsating emotion — because I am reminded (AGAIN), that EVERY…