Many have undertaken to analyze the dark depths of the issue of Black-on-Black crime and the engine of illegal drugs that powers much of it and while it does require seriously addressing, this is not the time. This is a time to just remember a young Black man who, within days of this post, succumbed to the treachery of the aforementioned ills. Terrell Sykes is that man that I speak of, and I say "is" because he still lives; he is alive within the hearts of multiple dozens that he touched.
Concerning Terrell, time, nor space would permit me to expound on his impact on so many. Speaking for myself, I knew him in paradoxical parameters. He was possibly the funniest man I have ever known yet at the same time one of the most serious-minded. And I want no one to be misunderstood by what I mean by "funniest"- he was certainly not some absent-minded fool who, through the telling of jokes made people laugh. Quite the contrary. His personality was the source of his humor in that he could make those around him laugh without any words. He was very bright, very loose, and as a result, he made everyone around him at ease and as a result laughter followed. He just made people feel good.
Terrell and I were from the same neighborhood and I had the pleasure to know him for many years after he befriended a young lady whom I had regarded as a younger sister of sorts. At first, I didn't know what to think- as men, we're quite protective and territorial about our women, but that eventually faded as I came to understand, respect, like him, and ultimately love as a dear friend.
Among many of my regrets in life is the fact that I didn't get the opportunity to enrich our friendship and truly convey the intensity of my desire that he select another method of making money other than the one he chose. I didn't want that necessarily for his safety, though that was certainly a concern but his activities in the neighborhood were just so far beneath his limitless potential and his obvious gifts. I used to tell him that he should have been in politics because if you knew him you would agree with me that he had what we call "the gift of gab." He had charisma that was sparkling and he was extremely charming. He could talk you out your winter coat in the middle of a Chicago winter in January. His heart was so big though, he would give you his instead if you needed it.
The choices that he made were his and I don't judge him. But I recognize that his series of choices as those that eventually caught up with him. Others may disagree, and that's fine. My opinion is my own. Economic conditions were a factor, and in many ways Terrell is like dozens of other young men I know who saw certain activities as the only option for survival- not to get rich- but to just survive and while I can't ever condone some of those choices, I know why he chose them. How could I condemn him? He wouldn't condone some of my own choices.
I just wish Terrell was still here. Still above the ground to charm a city in desperate need of a big-hearted Black man smarter than most of the people he knew. That's right. Terrell was most times the "smartest person in the room" but he never put others down or hung it over anyone's head; and now that I think about that, and what makes this exceptionally tragic, is that he probably never realized how smart he was and that failure to see that lead him to an inglorious end. We could absolutely use his witty charisma right now as a magnet for hundreds of young Black men and boys to be drawn to, up and out of the muck and mire of their socio-economic condition toward a great future of positive, powerful impact on a society in many ways designed to destroy Black males.
Terrell's life has ended, but his light remains, bright and incapable of being ignored. Light cannot be annihilated, only extinguished for a time. Terrell's light burns brilliantly in the lives and hearts of those he uniquely touched, first and foremost in his children. Those who loved him are charged to take his light out of our comfort zones and prevent other young Black men from coming to such a demise by helping them discover their own gifts and potential. Let us ferociously defend our children, especially our sons and raise them to be powerful but positive threats to the present social order that crushes Black males. If we love him, we must!
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