Tonight, Ron Davis will be among Washington’s elite. Senators, congressmen, maybe even the president and first lady.
They’ll be at the White House for a screening of the movie about the life and death of Davis’ 17-year-old son, Jordan.
The story of the 3 1/2-minute confrontation that ended in Jordan’s death, then led his parents to commit their lives to stopping murders like their son’s. To stop killings linked to racial differences.
Davis has been to the White House before, when Jordan was mentioned in President Barack Obama’s speech about his My Brother’s Keeper initiative.
Davis met basketball legend Magic Johnson, Chicago Mayor Rahm Emanuel and actor Jesse Williams of “Grey’s Anatomy.”
They congratulated him and Lucia McBath on the work they’re doing in the name of their son. He’s heard that from countless public officials, celebrities and others with influence as Davis has traveled the world to share Jordan’s story.
But he wants more. He wants action, not just handshakes.
“I want to help people who don’t get to meet these people,” Davis said.
He wants to help dismantle laws like Stand Your Ground, laws he believes make it too easy to take another person’s life.
He believes the law led Jordan’s killer, Michael Dunn, to think it was OK to fire 10 shots into the car filled with teenagers that November 2012 night, under the guise he feared for his life.
“It should not be whether you can shoot somebody or not, but do you have to,” Davis said.
He also is frustrated that Congress won’t pass tighter gun restrictions, despite a continued string of mass shootings, including one three weeks after Jordan died.
The 20 babies, as he calls them, who were shot down at their elementary school in Newtown, Conn.
And what did Congress do, he asked. “They yawned,” Davis said.
There are silver livings in a quest that can sometimes be filled with darkness. Signs that show Davis the work being done through the foundation named after Jordan is making a difference every day.
He sees it all the time, sometimes in small ways.
Tuesday morning, a couple he never met bought his breakfast in a restaurant. That has happened several times, Davis said.
Another day, a woman wanted to have her picture taken with Davis because, she told him, “You’re so inclusive.”
“The people were not of my skin color but I’ve touched their hearts,” he said.
Davis wants people to understand it’s not necessary to say they don’t notice black or white, to profess that they’re color blind. He doesn’t want people to ignore color, he wants them to embrace it.
“When you don’t see my color, then you’re not trying to see my culture,” he said. “You’re trying to pretend I don’t exist in this skin.”
And please, he said, “You don’t have to try to sound black to talk to me.”
People think that puts him at ease, but it doesn’t. Just be yourself, he said.
That’s the world Davis wants.
One where people can feel safe being themselves. One where a person’s color doesn’t cause hate. One where lives aren’t cut short by gun violence.
“Can it stop before I’m in my grave cold?” Davis pleads.
He knows he’ll spend the rest of his days trying to make that happen.
@editormarilyn
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