In the Wake of ‘The Trayvon Generation’

by Jenn M. Jackson, PhD

When I found out that George Zimmerman, the white-passing, mixed race Latinx man who killed Trayvon Martin on February 26th, 2012, was acquitted of all charges, I was sitting in a massive auditorium of Black women, all members of my sorority, Delta Sigma Theta, Inc. That night, we were in Washington D.C. for our centennial celebration, 100 years after the founding of our illustrious public service organization. I was in my late twenties at the time and was six months pregnant with my third child. The reality that my children would be entering a world where someone might kill them simply for existing was resting heavily on my chest.

I distinctly remember that my soror Sheryl Lee Ralph was standing at the podium preparing to announce the guest for that evening, India.Arie. We had all been waiting to hear the outcomes of the trial for weeks. Some of my sorors had even participated in a march earlier that week calling for justice for Trayvon. 

Then, in the midst of our celebrating and fellowship, phones started to buzz. People’s faces were lighting up as they scanned their phone screens looking for answers. The verdict was in: not guilty. As the George Zimmerman Trial sped to a close that night, I remember all of us sitting quietly. I sat next to my mother-in-law, a few aunts, and other sorors from my chapter. Some of us lowered our heads feeling the weight of the moment. Others sniffled, crying after hearing that there would be no justice for this young boy whose life was stolen. Others simply raised the illuminated phones in their hands and waved them back and forth. Soon, we were all raising our phones as Ralph rejoined us, telling the entire auditorium what had transpired.

That evening, I remember feeling the complexity of emotions that come along with being Black in the United States. I felt immense grief at the loss of Martin’s young life in addition to a sense of solidarity with the other parents in the room who were, like me, pondering on the world our children would inherit. At the same time, I felt a deep sense of rage at how often Black people have been and continue to be subjected to senseless and extrajudicial violence at the hands of the state. I wanted to scream and fight. Even with those intense feelings, I couldn’t help but to feel powerless, too. What would be waiting for my phenotypically Black children on the other side of our house door? What if someone decided they were a threat, too?

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Skittles, Arizona iced tea, and a cell phone were all Trayvon had in his hands the day that Zimmerman stole his life. Trayvon’s hoodie became the signature motif of the moment because Zimmerman suggested that Trayvon’s attire made him look “suspicious.” Even after organizers and local activists pushed for the arrest of George Zimmerman, it took nearly a month for police authorities to respond. These events, centered on an innocent Black child, changed everything for us. We became the “Trayvon Generation.” This term, popularized by Elizabeth Alexander in her book of the same name, denotes the specific experiences of young Black Americans growing up in the wake of Trayvon Martin’s killing.

For many older millennials and younger Gen X’ers, Trayvon’s killing spurred social movement activity and participation. The Movement for Black Lives started as a direct result of the injustice Martin’s parents and community endured after the verdict. Black Lives Matter (BLM) founders Patrisse Cullors, Opal Tometi, and Alicia Garza themselves were catalyzed by the macabre violence against Black people, inclusive of men, women, and gender expansive people. Through their work, we came to know the names of Michael Brown, Eric Garner, John Crawford, III, Sandra Bland, Marissa Alexander, and Tamir Rice. Because of the ways our collective grief and trauma united us, young Black people all over the world were finding political homes and new movement voices.

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Courtesy of Flickr

I, myself, felt compelled to understand the role of police threat, and threat in general, in the lives of young Black Americans. In my own desire to figure out how to make the world a safer place for my children and for the Black children who would inherit this society, I turned to academia. I focused my entire dissertation on the role of threat and the limits of public life for young Black people. Like many young Black folks, I joined social movement organizations. I participated in rallies and die-ins. I used my intellect and my body to fight a system that seemed to be structured for our collective demise. 

While these mass movements and responses have been critical to shifting Black Politics in the United States, they are also complicated. Mass mobilization has expanded alongside intimate devastation, reminding us that no march, policy, or platform can restore the life that was taken. That’s the thing about our constant struggle for freedom: it is so complex and layered. The road is riddled with obstacles and potholes. We are all always fighting for our collective lives. 

Trayvon Martin was a seventeen year old boy. He deserved to live. Trayvon should be here today, living happily as a 31-year-old-man. He should be laughing with his brother and hugging his mother. He should be eating dinner with his father and calling his closest friends on FaceTime. Trayvon should be here. It cannot be said enough.

As someone whose life was indelibly changed by the loss of Trayvon’s future and the verdict that followed, I write this now as a eulogy, to honor him. I write this in recognition that he never intended to be the reason we all fight today. He just wanted to live. And, as I look at my sons, now 18 and 12 years old, I want that same thing for them. Just for them to live.

Jenn M. Jackson, PhD (@jennmjacksonphd) (they/them) is a queer, androgynous Black woman, an abolitionist, a lover of all Black people, and an Assistant Professor at Syracuse University in the Department of Political Science. Jackson’s research is in Black Politics with a focus on Black Feminist movements, racial threat and trauma, gender and sexuality, policing, and political behavior. They are the author of BLACK WOMEN TAUGHT US (Penguin Random House, 2024) and POLICING BLACKNESS (expected in 2027). Jackson has written peer-reviewed articles at Public Culture, Politics, Groups, and Identities, Social Science Quarterly, and the Journal of Women, Politics, and Policy. Jackson received their doctoral degree from the Department of Political Science at the University of Chicago in 2019 where they also received a graduate certificate in Gender and Sexuality Studies.