Tamir Rice was killed by police in 2014. His mother is determined to help other children.
-
Ken Makin Cultural commentator
| Cleveland
Samaria Rice lost her son Tamir more than a decade ago. She still has not had a chance to grieve.
鈥淚鈥檝e been working since the death of my son. Haven鈥檛 had much of a break,鈥� she says. 鈥淚 haven鈥檛 had a chance to mourn him because Cleveland has not allowed me to do it.鈥�
In late June, she started a GoFundMe to commemorate what would have been her son鈥檚 23rd birthday. On Nov. 22, 2014, Tamir was killed by former Cleveland police officer Timothy Loehmann. The 12-year-old was playing in a park with a toy pellet gun. The tragedy fueled nationwide protests.
Why We Wrote This
Tamir Rice was killed at age 12 by a Cleveland police officer. His mother鈥檚 passion and solace are in helping children, but she also wants to provide a cultural road map for young people. Part of an occasional series.
Ms. Rice, who is trying to open a cultural center for children, has done previous fundraisers in the years since her son鈥檚 death. What made this one different was the contribution of a former Cleveland Cavalier. Kyrie Irving, who made the go-ahead basket in the final game of the 2016 NBA Finals, donated five figures toward Tamir鈥檚 legacy.
鈥淚 was sitting in a meeting when [someone] said, 鈥楰yrie Irving just donated $50,000,鈥� and I was screaming so loud,鈥� she recalls in an interview at her son鈥檚 memorial, which rests at the site of the shooting, just beyond the Cudell Recreation Center facility. 鈥淗e sees the vision, and he believes in what I鈥檓 doing.鈥�
Her plan for the funding is clear. 鈥淚 want to open the Tamir Rice Afrocentric Cultural Center. I want Black children to know where they come from and who they are.鈥�
鈥淎n exceptional child鈥�
The Cudell Recreation Center was perhaps Tamir鈥檚 favorite place to play. On this late summer day, there鈥檚 a colorful mural lining the facility and a city-sponsored youth event where children are singing and laughing. Vendors are selling food and drinks to cut through the summer heat wave.
Within eyeshot of the mural is empty playground equipment, which looks frozen in time. With the playground in the background, Ms. Rice sits at a rock garden and memorial for Tamir, which features his boyish face and a compelling message, which reads in part:
The government of the United States shall never know the amount or depth of everlasting pain they have caused Black Americans.
Tamir, you were a unique sacrifice, and for that I will never forget the devastation caused by this country built on denying truth and fostering hatred.
His mother visits the memorial 鈥渂etween three and four times a year鈥� for his birthday, the anniversary of his death, and other occasions.
鈥淏ut I have other people come out and send me pictures, just to make sure [the area] is not damaged,鈥� she says.
Tamir, born June 25, 2002, was described by many as an athletic and talented child. The former attribute became the source of what the American Civil Liberties Union of Ohio as racialized 鈥渁dultification鈥� after his death.
鈥淔ollowing the death of Tamir Rice, much attention was paid to his size. The Cleveland Police Patrolmen Association president said 鈥楾amir Rice is in the wrong. He鈥檚 menacing. He鈥檚 5-feet-7, 191 pounds. He wasn鈥檛 that little kid you鈥檙e seeing in pictures. He鈥檚 a 12-year-old in an adult body,鈥欌�� the ACLU in 2016. 鈥淭he fixation on the size of black bodies dates back to America鈥檚 days of slave auctions, where size was exploited for value and profit. Adultification and attempts to justify physical attacks against black children in America is not new either. In fact, being young did not protect Black children from being lynched in America.鈥�
Ms. Rice鈥檚 memories of Tamir are much more motherly, and carry a mournful lament.
鈥淗e was shooting three-pointers at 12 years old. He could throw a football as good as a grown man. He never needed training wheels or swimming lessons,鈥� she says. 鈥淗e was an exceptional child. He could have been anything. ... He could have been the next Kyrie, or [soccer star] David Beckham.鈥�
On the occasion of his 12th birthday, her son was 鈥渢ransitioning鈥� from Legos, animals, and cars to playing video games and hanging out at Cudell. The draw at the rec center was the free Wi-Fi, the swimming pool, and art classes.
鈥淗e loved to draw. ... Sonic [the Hedgehog] characters and stuff like that,鈥� Ms. Rice says. 鈥淗e was a big, gentle giant. He was in sixth grade, learning how to play the drums and learning how to speak Chinese.鈥�
A few months after his 12th birthday, Tamir was playing with a toy gun near the playground at Cudell. Someone called 911 and reported that there was a 鈥済uy with a pistol鈥� at the park, and that it was likely fake and the 鈥済uy鈥� was a juvenile. That message was lost in translation, and the two officers in the police cruiser, including Mr. Loehmann, arrived at the scene. Initial reports suggested that Mr. Loehmann shouted three warnings at Tamir, but grainy video of the incident showed the officer fired within seconds of arrival.
鈥淚 had to reeducate myself after my son鈥檚 murder. I really thought as an American, I was gonna get justice,鈥� Ms. Rice says. 鈥淚 said, 鈥楬ow could they kill an unarmed baby and just get away with it?鈥� I really believed that I was going to get an indictment for the murder of my son.
鈥淚t crushed me when I didn鈥檛 get that indictment in 2015, on the 28th of December,鈥� she says.
Mr. Loehmann was never charged for shooting Tamir. He only lost his job after investigators found that he .
鈥淚 found myself falling to my knees, crying and screaming,鈥� Ms. Rice recalls.
鈥淚 developed my voice鈥�
Ms. Rice recalls the things she had done to keep her three children out of harm鈥檚 way. Certain video games were off-limits for Tamir. The family mostly lived in quiet, rural communities as opposed to urban areas.
鈥淚 have tried to put positive things around my children and expose them to positivity, because I had such a bad childhood,鈥� she says. 鈥淚 didn鈥檛 want them to have to go through what I went through.鈥�
Ms. Rice was born and raised on the East Side of Cleveland, between Garfield Heights and an area formerly known as Miles Heights. That distinction is significant and ironic because Miles Heights was once an integrated suburb in Cleveland seen as a safe haven. Garfield Heights, meanwhile, endured as a representative of the city鈥檚 manufacturing history.
She describes her parents as 鈥渧ery loving鈥� and 鈥渂lue collar.鈥� Then, the 1980s drug epidemic devastated her young life.
鈥淢y mom worked at the steel mill and my dad worked at [soda bottling and distribution plant] 7-Up, but when the drugs came in the 鈥�80s, that destroyed the home,鈥� she says. 鈥淢y mom lost her job, my parents ended up getting divorced, and so on.鈥�
Ms. Rice鈥檚 son was 12 when he was killed, and she was the same age when she essentially found herself on her own.
鈥淚鈥檝e been in the streets since I was 12 years old. I鈥檝e been through the system a little bit, and then eventually I was on my own,鈥� she says. 鈥淚 can鈥檛 say it鈥檚 been peaches and cream for me. But you know, when you鈥檙e a product of your environment and there鈥檚 no guidance around, this is what happens.鈥�
She was homeless when Tamir was born, the result of leaving an abusive relationship. She hit 鈥渞ock bottom.鈥� But the baby persevered, and became something of a 鈥渏okester.鈥�
After the police shooting, she says she had to 鈥渟uppress my feelings鈥� to make sure that her other two children finished school. And then, she found herself speaking up against injustice of all forms.
鈥淚 was expressing myself and really standing on business, making folks accountable,鈥� she says. 鈥淣o more lies at this point. I don鈥檛 want to hear another lie. So that鈥檚 how I developed my voice.鈥�
Building from scratch
In a lot of ways, the Afrocentric center would be a lot like Tamir 鈥� cultured, gifted, youthful 鈥� and be geared around after-school programming.
鈥淚鈥檒l have a performing arts studio, consisting of creative writing and theatrics. There will be mentoring, tutoring, and free music lessons,鈥� she says. 鈥淚 will implement Pan-African history classes, economics, and nutrition.鈥�
Her passion and solace are in helping children, but she also wants to provide a cultural road map for young people.
鈥淭hat鈥檚 why I鈥檓 adding civics classes ... to give a child an opportunity to do things the right way,鈥� she says. 鈥淚 just want children to know exactly who they are and where they come from.鈥�
In the middle of building the center, which she hopes will open next year, Ms. Rice is still honing her primary mission: honoring her son鈥檚 legacy and standing up for her community.
鈥淚鈥檝e been in and out of therapy. Probably gonna be in and out of therapy the rest of my life,鈥� she says. 鈥淏ut it鈥檚 God that allows me to do the things that I do, to be a voice, to give me the courage to do and say everything that I need to say.鈥�
Earlier in the series:
Aug. 8: How the birthplace of Black Lives Matter rebuilt trust after Trayvon Martin鈥檚 killing
July 17:聽鈥楾he city becomes a canvas for storytelling.鈥� How Baltimore is honoring Freddie Gray.
July 7: 鈥楾hat鈥檚 the warrior spirit.鈥� Why Valerie Castile is determined to honor her son.
May 21: George Floyd鈥檚 family lawyer thinks the path to justice is 鈥榤ore daunting than ever鈥�
May 18: George Floyd鈥檚 murder sparked a reckoning on race. But did America change?
