The Crew

Stacey Sims Burton

In early May of 2020, I, like all the world, was surviving a pandemic. I was learning to cope in isolation with my family. My teens missed their friends, and we were beginning to understand that the six-week original lockdown was extending to an undetermined amount of time. One day, in late May, one late blursday in May, I watched the viral video of the murder of George Floyd. I watched as a handcuffed man told police officers he couldn’t breathe. For nine sickening minutes, I saw a man being humiliated, a knee to his neck. The moment I heard him call out for his mom, I broke. This horrifying picture to this day has never escaped my head. It repeatedly replays, except the man changes. It starts as George Floyd calling to his mom, then to the faces of my son’s friends, boys I have known since they were ten years old, lovingly called “the crew” in our house, aged in my imagination past their current nearly 16-year-old states to how I imagine them looking as full-grown adults. Until finally, the face is Steve, my son, and I am the mom that is being called and is unable to answer. 

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Introducing the crew:

Steve aka Sliz

Race/Ethnicity: Mayan, which is Native American inclusive of Latino/a/x

Bio: Sliz is loyal, and when you need a dude to have your back, he is the dude to whom you call. He will find you that extra $20 you need for lunches and slip it into your backpack without you noticing and without taking the credit. He has the ability and strength to beat you down but never needs to use it. A man of few words, Sliz always seems to know what to do. 

Strengths: kindhearted, generous, observant

Weakness: Impulse control

Inner Sweathog: Juan Luis Pedro Felipo de Huevos Epstein

Quote: “I got ya.”

The summer of 2020 and the murder of George Floyd brought a resurgence to the Black Lives Matter movement. People weighed the risk of Covid against the injustice of police brutality and masked up to march. I wanted to join in and raise a sign in solidarity, so I broached the topic with my son late one night. Steve and I are the insomniacs in our house, and we have the most in-depth talks between 11 pm and 2 am. He told me he didn’t want to go, and he didn’t want me to go. I had just gotten news in early June that I had kidney cancer. Our house was on strictest lockdown. Covid, cancer, and kidney trouble are worrisome in any combination. Steve is the caretaker of all who he deems worthy of being in his circle. I agreed to continue with our lockdown policy for my health. I asked him if he was ok with everything going on. 

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Alejandro aka Poof

Race/Ethnicity: Mexican, Latino/a/x

Bio: A talented kid in multiple arenas, he started mixing different beats when he was eleven. His greatest dream was to join the Junior High /High School basketball team, but couldn’t because of his responsibilities at home. Good-natured, super-cool: Poof always has a phone in his hand and a swagger in his step.

Strengths: basketball, mixing music, swagger

Weakness: Dependability

Inner Sweathog: Freddie “Boom Boom” Washington

Quote: “Stand right there. I’ve got an idea.”

That night Steve and I talked, again, about police brutality.

We talked, again, about how he needs to act when dealing with police. 

We talked, again, about how he is to never leave his friends alone with the police. 

We talked, again, about how I don’t care if I get a call that he is in jail. I just don’t want to get a call that he is dead.

Devone aka Vroom

Race/Ethnicity: Black

Bio: An extreme introvert, Vroom brings a sense of quiet and peace to the crew. A calm sense of humor that can be overlooked, he has a way with the ladies and has been known to give the other crew members lessons on attracting their attentions. He has occasionally stayed at crew headquarters for weeks at a time. While filled with love, his living situation is less than ideal for this fine young man who only wants a quiet and calm place to lay his head.

Strengths: speed, endurance, invisibility

Weakness: Debilitatingly shy with adults

Inner Sweathog: Vinnie Barbarino

Quote: “…alright…”

 I asked Steve if we should put up a BLM sign on the lawn. He said it would make him feel uncomfortable. I assured him that I would not put up a sign. I am white, and my children are people of color. Navigating these racial societal obstacles takes parenting to a different level. I allow my children a certain power and autonomy because I understand their experience walking through life will be different, more challenging than my own. I am aware that my whiteness protects me in ways that their brownness does not. I wish to be an ally to the BLM movement while acknowledging no rightful stake of claim there. Yet, I find I cannot connect with moms of white boys, as I cry myself to sleep every night trying to make sure I have done everything I can to protect my son and his crew from becoming the next viral sensation, and fearing that I have failed.

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Eddie aka Chicken Wing

Race/Ethnicity: Caucasian

Bio: Child of two science nerds, and it shows. Chicken Wing is awkward and tends to stick out in most social situations, even within the crew. He is shorter, whiter, and sports a puffy blue coat regardless of the weather. Chicken Wing is central to the crew. If you come for him, you must go through them. Bonus—he is the self-proclaimed King of Memes.  

Strengths: funny, strategic, scholastic

Weakness: Athletics of any kind

Inner Sweathog: Arnold Horshack

Quote: “Perhaps we should try….”

While the protesters were still in the streets, social media did its part as well. The #saytheirnames resurfaced, and the list was ever-growing: Trayvon Martin, Tamir Rice, Elijah McClain, Michael Brown, Eric Garner, Philando Castile, and Breonna Taylor. I knew the names and was familiar with the cases, but they became more personal. The crew entering into their Sophomore year resembled the teens and men in the videos more than they did the boys in my head. All, except Eddie, towered above me, at over 6 feet. All, except Eddie, were not allowed to wear hoodies in public. All, except Eddie, were banned from wearing all blue or red clothes to school. And all, except Eddie, could be any of these cases. Though Eddie, the king of wrong- place-wrong-time-good-heart would not be exempt. 

Summer Taylor was a white person who had spent six weeks peacefully protesting for Black Lives Matter in Seattle. Their preferred pronouns were They/Them. They would work all day in a veterinary hospital and spend their nights trying to use their privilege for all people’s betterment. Their friends and coworkers said their sense of humor made everyone around them smile, and their distinct laughter was contagious. They were 24 when they were run down at a BLM protest and killed. Dawit Kelete was the driver of the car. Dawit, a Black man, swears that it was an accident, has no animosity toward the movement, and is a BLM member. His first words on exiting the car were, “Are they ok?” He has been charged with vehicular homicide, vehicular assault, and reckless driving. The person who died was named Summer. The crew would call them Chicken Wing.

Trayvon Martin was killed walking home from a 7-11 after buying skittles and a watermelon Arizona iced tea. He was 17. Shot by a man who was the captain of the local neighborhood watch. Somehow the shooter was found innocent, even though he disregarded direct police orders telling him to stay in his car and not engage with Trayvon. At one time, Trayvon dreamed of becoming an NFL player. He was funny, obsessed with sex and girls, and always had a phone in his hand. He was murdered because he looked suspicious. We would call that Black. His nickname was Slimm. The crew would call him Poof.

Elijah McClain was killed by police walking home from a convenience store. He was put into a chokehold and then given a “therapeutic dose” of ketamine. He died of a heart attack at age 23. He loved animals and used to play the violin to the kittens at a local animal shelter, believing the music soothed them. When he vomited after being put in a chokehold, he apologized. Charges were not filed against the officers because it was decided that the force applied was consistent with police training. Body mic audio-recorded his last words. Here are some of them:

“That’s my house. I was just going home. I’m an introvert. I’m just different. That’s all. I’m so sorry. I have no gun. I don’t do that stuff. I don’t do any fighting. Why are you attacking me? I don’t even kill flies! I don’t eat meat! But I don’t judge people, I don’t judge people who do eat meat. Forgive me. All I was trying to do was become better. I will do it. I will do anything. Sacrifice my identity, I’ll do it. You all are phenomenal. You are beautiful and I love you. Try to forgive me. I’m a mood Gemini. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He was murdered because he looked suspicious. We would call that Black. His name was Elijah. The crew would call him Vroom.

Philando Castile was shot by a police officer while sitting in his car with his girlfriend and her four-year-old daughter. They were returning from the grocery store when they were pulled over for a broken taillight. Philandro immediately and respectfully informed the officer that he had a license to carry and the gun was in the car with him. The Ramsey County Attorney investigated the shooting. The following are quotes from his report:

“He volunteered in good faith that he had a firearm – beyond what the law requires.”

“Philando Castile did not exhibit any intent, nor did he have any reason, to shoot Officer Yanez.”

“He was respectful and compliant based upon the instructions and orders he was given.”

Philando, who did everything right, was still murdered. The officer, who was a murderer, was still found innocent. Philando was an employee at a school, and worked in food services. He often paid off the students’ cafeteria debts so that they could eat. When he was younger, his friends said that he was a quiet kid, a video game fanatic. The officer said he was shot because Philando acted hinky. We would call that Black. His friends called him Chedda because he always had a job, and you could always count on him for money. The crew would call him Slizz. I would call him Son.

The summer protesting eventually died down. By September 2020, BLM hardly took up any media space at all. I was on my road to recovery from a partial nephrectomy that had me gingerly celebrating my cancer-free status. My son spent hours on Call of Duty, virtually shooting things with the crew. I missed them being together but enjoyed hearing his basso giggle erupt out of our garage, which had always served as crew headquarters. 

By October 2020, that changed, and crew headquarters would have an extra occupant as we allowed Vroom to come live with us 50% of the time. I was worried because, if possible, he seemed even skinnier than the last time I saw him. I drove to the store to buy bags of food I knew he would eat. 

As I shop, I worry. 

I worry about Eddie, who I know will say the wrong thing at the wrong time. Or be at the wrong place at the wrong time. I worry about Alejandro, who I know will count on his charm to get him out of trouble because it usually does. Until one day, his broad smile and the flash of his eyes does nothing but make him suspicious. I worry about Devone. Sweet Devone, who is like my second son. Whose calm manner and inability to express himself when faced with authority might make him appear suspicious. I worry about Steve, my own. Half of my heart. My generous defender of the old and young. I have spent hours drilling on being respectful and polite, especially to the police, only to make him appear hinky. 

I worry that I have not done enough to protect them. 

That I can never do enough to protect them. 

That nothing I do can protect them. 

That their lives will not matter.