As a kid growing up in Ohio and later Florida, Danny Trevathan never thought a lot about the ritual. His mother, Michelle Hicks, would send him off for the day _ to school, to practice, wherever. But she rarely let him leave without a kiss on the forehead.
Like any young boy, Trevathan would quickly wipe it away. "Ma! Get out of here!" he would think to himself, fearing embarrassment in front of friends and peers.
But now Trevathan realizes that daily kiss was more than just a routine. His mom had her own worries.
"Now," Trevathan said, "I see the reason behind it. She feared I would never come back home to her. That's terrifying _ as a person, as a human."
Trevathan is 30 now, a father to two young daughters, a Bears linebacker and a proud U.S. citizen who is deeply troubled by the events of the last week and a half. Once again, he is confronting the discomfort and anxiety that can come with being an African American.
On May 25 in Minneapolis, 46-year-old George Floyd was arrested in front of a deli and forcefully restrained by Minneapolis police officers. One of those officers, Derek Chauvin, planted his knee on Floyd's neck and didn't let up for almost nine minutes. Three other officers failed to intervene.
Floyd gasped for mercy. "I can't breathe," he said. But his breath never returned.
Floyd died that night. Chauvin wasn't arrested until four days later.
On a human-to-human level, the cellphone video of the encounter proved deeply unsettling. That it was a white police officer using such extreme force against an African American man who was being taken into custody for allegedly using an illegitimate $20 bill served to expose the country's raw nerves and underlying racial tension.
Over the last week, protests have been ongoing nationwide, including in Chicago. Many have been peaceful demonstrations, intended to draw attention to racial injustice and abuses of power by police. Some, though, have also included looting, arson and heightened violence. The pushback to the protests has been aggressive and vicious at times.
Trevathan has found himself in deep reflection, trying to process what is unfolding and how the nation's division is being illuminated.
"Wrong is wrong and right is right," he said. "It costs nothing to love one another. It costs nothing to care about one another. We can't keep ignoring stuff and pushing it under the table."
He has also found himself thinking about his daughters.
"I don't want to give them a broken world that's confused and full of hatred," he said.
