I have been following the Trayvon Martin case and like many people, especially people of African descent, I am extremely disturbed about this case. Some people have called Zimmerman and the Sanford Police racists; however, I believe that everyone involved in the case is a victim of color arousal
Everyone has experienced color arousal at some point in their lives. This case brings to the forefront the attitudes of many towards that which is unknown and different from oneself. People of African descent have experienced this maybe more than any other ethnic groups in the United States. Trayvon Martin may be the extreme of what we experience on a day to day that we sometimes take as a price that we must pay.
I live in Florida and have experienced a mild form of color arousal. One of my encounters with this was when my sisters and I first moved to Florida in the mid-90's from NYC. My sister was single but making decent money so she decided to buy a house in what is a middle to low upper middle class neighborhood. We thought that we could all live together. The day that we move into the house, our neighbors came to greet us. They were friendly and we did not perceive them to be anything but neighborly. After the usual introductions and exchange of location of houses, we were asked what we did for a living. At first the question did not make any sense to us as it came out of nowhere. Then, it dawned on us that really the question was not what we did for a living but "how can 3 single black women under 30 afford to live in this neighborhood?". To my neighbors, our presence in their neighborhood did not compute until we stated that we were all medical professionals. Then, our place in their world was explained and we were kinda accepted at this point.
This was not the first time that I have encountered this form of color aroused individuals. When I first moved to Florida, I lived in an apartment building in Sunny Isles Beach. It was not unusual for the elderly living in that building and even the door attendants to mistake me for the maid. Regardless of how I dressed, I was always asked in the elevator who did I worked for. Each time I would answer I live here. I would get the incredulous stare and then the question: What do you do for a living? I used to chalked it up to curious, uninformed old people who still thought that black people could not afford to live anywhere of their choosing; but that was not always the case. One of my fellow coworkers when I first started the job would asked me how I can afford to live in that area. I was annoyed at him and told him that I had a "sugar daddy" paying the apartment for me. He knew better.
When I moved out of my sister's house and bought my house in a solidly middle class neighborhood in the same town. Guess my neighbors first question. If you guessed: What do you do for a living? You won the prize!
I am sure that Zimmeman, not knowing Trayvon; after all he was only visiting his father, was similarly color aroused when he saw an unknown black person in his neighborhood. It did not dawn on him that this kid could be a neighbor's son. His presence in the neighborhood did not compute so he equated that person as being up to no good. He did not know what Trayvon did for a living.