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On Saturday, July 13, 2013, George Zimmerman was found not guilty of the murder of seventeen-year-old Trayvon Martin. The not-guilty verdict further propelled Trayvon’s mother, Sybrina Fulton, into the public domain. One week after the verdict, Fulton spoke at a New York rally protesting the verdict. Six days later, she addressed the National Urban League. An analysis of these two speeches reveals how Fulton’s role of mother might broaden the concept of Symbolic Motherhood to include mothers whose lived experiences are different from those of the dominant culture and whose public performances are triggered by issues not related to a military war.
Sybrina Fulton
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Symbolic motherhood has taken on different connotations throughout history. After the Civil War, the United Daughters of the Confederacy (UDC) represented the proud southern mother who, in Heyse’s view, worked tirelessly to bring about collective memory for her fallen sons and to turn the South’s defeat into a badge of honor through the UDC’s rhetoric. For many, it was and still is Kerber’s description of the patriotic mother whose primary responsibility is to groom strong patriotic sons who would defend the Republic in times of war. To 18th, 19th, and early 20th century women, predominantly White women, if I may add, this entailed mothers’ relegation to the private sphere where they spent their days training and teaching their sons to be good soldiers and civic leaders. Mary Harris “Mother” Jones represented the militant mother who, as Tonn puts it, “Performed affirmingly yet confrontationally on behalf of” her children, her boys, the nation’s coal miners towards the end of the 19th century.
More recently, in 2005, Cyndi Sheehan enacted the role of matriot, the anti-war mother speaking on behalf of her slain soldier son, Casey; while Sarah Palin, in her unsuccessful 2008 vice-presidential bid, according to Gipson and Heyse, projected a faux motherhood persona as a screen to camouflage her true message of masculine persuasion, which called for the continuation of hegemonic conservative White male values. Other depictions of symbolic motherhood include Austin and Carpenter’s perspectives on the “troubled, troublesome, and troubling mothers” of children with ADHD and Fabj’s work surrounding the face-saving strategies of Delores Huerta as the spokesperson for the mothers of the missing children in Argentina.
Like Sheehan, Sybrina Fulton, the mother of Trayvon Martin, was also a protesting mother giving voice to a slain son. But, her rhetoric diverges from Sheehan’s in that Trayvon did not volunteer to go to war; he was drafted to fight the day he was born a Black male in America. Trayvon’s battle was not fought in some foreign land; his battle was fought on the streets of Miami, FL. In the words of Fulton in her New York City speech of July 20, 2013, her son, Trayvon, lost his life a few feet from his home simply because “of someone else’s perspective of him.” Fulton does not identify Zimmerman, the man who pulled the trigger, as the lone enemy. From Trayvon’s mama’s perspective, the enemy that took her son’s life was certain laws of the land of the greatest democracy on earth, both written and unwritten, which legitimize racial stereotyping, racial profiling, and ultimately, the discriminate murdering of Black boys for no other reason than the color of their skin.
During this discussion, I argue for an expanded view of symbolic motherhood to include myriad mothers of African American males, like Fulton, and mothers of other marginalized people of color who, by way of giving birth to Black male children in America, are destined to speak to and for their sons in either or all of three distinct voices, which I am calling the dyadic voice, the judicial voice, and the eulogistic voice. And so, I will advance my argument by first explaining why I chose to use the symbol, “Mama” rather than the more accepted symbol, Mother, and how that term connects with Fulton’s dyadic voice, which is not explicit in Fulton’s speeches, but is implicit as well as relevant to this conversation. Then, by examining the speeches Fulton gave in New York City on 7.20.2013 and the one she gave before the National Urban League on 7.26.2013, and also referencing pertinent segments of her testimony during the Zimmerman trial, I reveal how Fulton functioned rhetorically in the remaining two voices.
Why Trayvon’s “Mama?”
You may have noticed that I refer to Fulton as Trayvon’s mama rather than the acceptable scholarly nomenclature, Mother, because from an existential perspective, the reference to mama in this discussion acknowledges the different experience of the African American mother of sons from White mothers of sons. For me, the symbol, Mama, denotes the ancestral bond between the Black maternal parent and the Black child. It conveys an intimacy and affection that the more formal symbol, Mother, does not convey. Mama is the trusted name that small children of many races and cultures use when they are addressing the one who nurtures, comforts and protects them until they reach the years of self-reliance. In most Black familial circles, the childhood terms Mama or Madea, are clung to forever and become more endearing with every passing year. I view the endearment, Mama, as a representation of African Americans’ awareness that there is something different about the struggles of the African American mother that deserves scholarly distinction. I am in no way minimizing or criticizing the use of the more formal term. Nor am I laying claim on the term, Mama, exclusively for African Americans. I am saying that I choose to refer to Sybrina Fulton as Mama here as a way of acknowledging and showing respect for the sacrifices that she and other Black mothers have made for their children and, indeed, for the entire Black race. Arguably, Black women represent the most marginalized segment of society. And all too often, Black single mothers have carried the heaviest load. Use of the term, Mama, is my way of acknowledging and reverencing not only African American biological mothers but our Big Mamas and God mommas, and play-mommas and grand mommas, and aunties and big sisters and all the women of our African American heritage who, to paraphrase Anna Julia Cooper, “entered in the quiet, undisputed dignity of [their] womanhood, without ... special patronage, [thereby allowing] the whole [Black] race to enter with [them].”
Fulton’s rhetoric symbolically represents these women’s roles in the lives of Black sons and one aspect of that role was to initiate what many African Americans refer to as “The Talk” and what I am calling in this discussion the dyadic voice for life.
The Dyadic Voice for Life
Moreland suggests that the two people involved in a dyadic relationship have a special bond, intimacy, if you will. Likewise, “Mead (1949) perceived basic differences between relationships of father to child and mother to child: Paraphrasing Meade, “The mother's nurturing tie to her child is apparently so deeply rooted in the actual biological conditions of conception and gestation, birth and suckling, that few influences can break it down entirely.”
Based upon these scholars’ insights and Fulton’s unique representation of the symbolic mother I expand the term, dyadic, to include the inevitable “talk” that parents of Black sons must have with their boys. This” talk” may be considered a component of Critical Race Theory called counter story-telling, described by Reynolds as “recognition of the experiential knowledge of people of color and their communities (Dixson & Rousseau, 2005; Matsuda et al., 1993)...which allows for the incorporation of their oral interpretation of their history and struggles, which are often not validated by the dominant culture. Hence, the term, counter-storytelling. This methodology allows the inclusion of narratives grounded in the detailed particulars of the social realities and lived experiences of racialized peoples (Matsuda, 1993).
I view “The Talk” as an inherently dyadic phenomenon that occurs around the beginning of the teen-age years in the lives of young Black men. Civil rights lawyer and author of The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness, Michelle Alexander, depressingly points out that from birth, Black Americans, particularly Black men, are viewed – not as having a problem or creating a problem but as “being the problem” in American culture. And so, sometime before Black parents release their sons to independence, they have the talk, which, as Person expresses it, is more essential than gas money. The talk is all about what your son, as a Black male, should do if he encounters a police officer. It goes something like this: “Be respectful, not belligerent, even if you have done nothing wrong and especially if you’re being harassed. If you’re pulled over while you are driving, keep your hands on the steering wheel in plain sight. Don't make any sudden moves. Always announce your intentions to the officer before doing anything, and ask him if it's OK just to be sure. If it's dark, turn on the light in your car before the officer approaches so he knows he can see you clearly. Do not consent to a search, even if you have nothing to hide. Always ask the officer if you are free to go or if you are being detained. And if you are being detained, clearly invoke your right to remain silent. Call me as soon as they will allow you to.”
I am reasonably sure that Fulton would have had this talk with Trayvon on more than one occasion. When she gave her testimony at the Zimmerman trial, she self-identified as a divorced mother of two sons. And while Trayvon’s father, Tracy, was very visible during the entire ordeal and seemed to be very much a part of his son’s life, I have no doubt that the bond between Fulton and Trayvon—between mama and son—was a special one. Fulton unknowingly reconstructed this bond rhetorically during her testimony when she was asked by the prosecutor if Trayvon had any distinguishing marks or tattoos on his body. She shared that he had praying hands with the names of his paternal and maternal grandmothers, intertwined with a strand of pearls, tattooed on one of his shoulders and her name, Sybrina, tattooed on one of his wrists. These artistic visualizations permanently displayed on Trayvon’s body indicate that the women in his family meant a great deal to him. Thus, the myth of symbolic motherhood and the African American heritage of Mama as nurturer, comforter, protector, and friend were not absent from the Fulton household and we may conclude that Fulton would have dyadically reiterated “The Talk” on more than one occasion, especially since she was a single mom during much of Trayvon’s upbringing,
Judicial Voices for Justice and Eulogistic Voice for a Positive Legacy
After Trayvon’s death, Fulton’s dyadic voice was transformed into judicial and eulogistic voices calling for justice and a lasting, more positive legacy for her son.
During the Zimmerman trial, she once tweeted, “Day 19 - I pray that God gives me strength to properly represent my angel, Trayvon.” Then at the New York rally on July 20, 2013, Fulton said, “Trayvon is not here to speak for himself. It’s very important as parents, Godparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins that you speak up for these children! Trayvon was a child...I am still the proud mother of Trayvon Martin. As I have said before, Trayvon may not have been perfect but he was mine. He was mine. We loved him. We supported him. We cared for him, just like you do your kids. ... Trayvon was no burglar. He had a drink and some candy. He had every right to be in that area. He had every right to walk through that community to go back to the house where he came from.”
Fulton magnifies her loss in the July 26, 2013, speech before the National Urban League by saying, “Trayvon was my son, but Trayvon was also your son. I just ask you...to wrap your mind around what has happened because I speak to you as Trayvon’s mother; I speak to you as a parent. And the worst telephone call you can receive as a parent is to know that your son - your son - you will never kiss again. I’m just asking you to wrap your mind around no prom for Trayvon; no high school graduation for Trayvon; no college; no grandkids coming from Trayvon; all because of a law, a law that has prevented the person who shot and killed my son to be held accountable and to pay for this awful crime. Those are the things, those are the facts that we need to stand firm on; because today, it was my son; tomorrow it might be yours.
Fulton has a predilection for religious rhetoric and most of her eulogistic remarks after her son’s death began and/or ended in God's language. In the months after his death, it was publicized that Trayvon had been in trouble before and also that marijuana was found in his system at autopsy. So to reverse what some could view as a negative legacy, Fulton offered more than one eulogistic tribute to her son: On one occasion she said, “It means a lot when people stand with you, And let me just say... we are here today... because we’re sick and tired of our kids being killed. We’re sick and tired of the senseless gun violence. We’re sick and tired of laws that don’t work for us. We’re sick and tired of tee shirts being printed with our loved ones' pictures on the front of them. ..So let me just leave you with a few words of encouragement. And God sits high and looks low. And, a lot of times people think they are getting away with things, but they’re really not. And that is why sometimes I don’t have a comment because I’m letting God handle it.”
In her July 26, 2013, speech before the National Urban League, Fulton said,
“... nobody’s hurting as much as me as a parent, me as a mom. Because you know, as a mom, we’re a little sensitive when it comes to our children. And we have every right to be. When they hurt, we hurt. When they’re happy, we’re happy. At times I feel like I am a broken vessel. At times I don’t know if I’m going or coming. But I know beyond a shadow of a doubt, God is using me and God is using my family to make a change, to make a difference... Because the verdict is not going to define who Trayvon Martin was. We will define his legacy. We will define who he is and what he was all about...So, not only am I asking the Urban League family, I’m asking your individual families to take a look at our website; to get involved and stand up...because we need your help, your support, and more importantly, your voice, so that there are no Trayvon Martins again.”
In sum, with her implicit dyadic voice, and her definitive judicial and eulogistic voices, Fulton strengthens my argument for the expansion of the view of the symbolic mother to include marginalized mothers of color who must prepare their sons for a different kind of battle-one which many people of the dominant culture steadfastly insists does not exist; but one that, as Alexander reminds us, the marginalized have recognized even before W.E.B. DuBois asked the rhetorical question over 100 years ago, “How does it feel to be a problem?” One that Ella Baker recognized over 50 years ago when she said, “Until the killing of Black men, Black mothers’ sons, becomes as important as the killing of White men, White mothers’ sons-we who believe in freedom cannot rest until this happens.”