Without judgment: Minding my business

Miss Graham smacked the truth out of him in the middle of the street for all to see. She smacked him because he had lied to her not once but twice, promising to her momma face he would not go anywhere near the mayhem. Not only did he go, he went to the epic center of it and took his place on center stage armed with props. He did not expect that she would be a spectator, she was hoping beyond hope he was not a key player. But he was and she could not ignore it. Though he was cloaked in costume, hoodie pulled up close and tight around his body, helmeting his head, dark clothes, and mask. Yes a mask to disguise his youthful face and the intended acts to come, but she knew it was him, any momma would. He took the stage and took aim. She arrived to the scene just in time and for a fleeting moment was relieved her only son could not be found. He had kept his word to his momma, so she believed. But like any momma whose maternal radar had been aroused she had to know for sure. And that is when she saw him already on stage and acting the fool, taking aim at his subjects....the police of Baltimore. Her baby acting like a man-child. So she did the only thing she knew to do....she found her son and gave him a royal beat down. The kind of beating that ended with a curtain call, not for his act but for hers. She was by the majority it sounded thunderously applauded. She had handled her business and maybe even saved her son from falling over.

I was not one of those cheering Miss Graham. What more, I was not among those judging her for what looked to be an explosion of rage and emotion. A desperate cry for instant correction and suspension. Her son Michael heeded without momentary hesitation.

My mother would have done the same thing as Miss Graham. She, like Miss Graham would have gone into survival mode and by any means necessary, corrected the situation she saw as wrong and potentially perilous. Her only son running toward a fiery danger he could not easily unwind. He is after all, young, black, poor and naïve to the consequences of his riotous bravado played out on national TV. My mom would have pulled tools from her only tool box, playing the cards from her deck, do as she was taught, listen to the voice that pulsated inside her and she would have acted just as Miss Graham acted. Rightly or wrongly, I will leave that to our maker.

Of one thing we can all agree. She took her son home that night. And this is more than many other poor, black, naïve to the consequences, moms of the inner city can say about their only son.

So on this one, I will remain in my seat from across the room and dare not judge. I have an only son too.