Christian Cherry, a Black Tacoma youth mentor and advocate against youth gun violence, was shot and killed near Bates Technical College on South State Street on December 14, 2023. Cherry was hospitalized in critical condition at the time, and died fifteen days later on December 29 at the age of 24.
Cherry, commonly referred to as ‘Big Chris,’ was known for his tremendous work with community youth. Dr. Timmie Foster, a community member who worked closely with Cherry, told KIRO 7 that “he really had a passion for youth who were exploring themselves and interested in serving in the community. So he served as a role model.”
Growing up, I had my own version of Cherry. My father is a Black elementary school principal of 28 years and the only Black elementary school principal in his district. Walking alongside him has been extremely important for me to see how to navigate being both an educator and a social justice advocate. In speaking with him about his experience as a racial representative in education, he stated, “You watch how you say things… because you don’t want for there to ever be any moment where stereotypes come into play.” Additionally, he said that “… For me, I always wanted to be solid at what I do, and to come across in a way that makes people of color look good.”
I am a biracial third-year student in the elementary education program. Racial representation is a common topic in my classes, as it is vital for students to see their potential in areas where minorities do not normally succeed. One of the readings that comes to mind is “Mirrors, Windows, and Sliding Glass Doors,” by Reading is Fundamental. The article states that “when children see themselves reflected in the books they read, or when images they see are distorted, negative, or laughable, they learn a powerful lesson about how they are devalued in the society of which they are a part.” The same can be said about representation in other aspects of education, whether that be through tutoring, youth mentoring, volunteering, or other forms of educational outreach.
Christian Cherry’s death is a tragedy. Not just for his family, friends, and community, but all Black representation in education everywhere. So here is what I want:
I want more for Black educators, youth leaders, mentors, tutors, and volunteers. I want them to feel needed and wanted, to understand that their impact is life-changing for so many of our youth. “I am a professional, I want to be taken as a professional,” said my father. “And so, I think that just goes hand in hand with kids, I want kids to also see me as their teacher or their principal and take me serious. And their parents.” We want to be seen seriously and stereotype-free in the education system. Period.
I want to see more Black representation in our curriculum, as well. It’s one thing to integrate diversity into our educational spaces, but it should also start at the root of our materials. I want people to understand what it means to have racial representation in the education system.
But will they take me seriously? I want people to believe that I’m speaking from experience. My frustration in this has been going on since junior high, when I was told by both my white friends and friends of color that I wasn’t “Black enough.” The only time people cared about my race was when they saw my hair. My peers would touch my hair without asking, and didn’t understand my anger when I said I didn’t like it. They wouldn’t acknowledge my race when I explicitly stated it, but raved about my curls whenever it was convenient for them, as if the two weren’t connected.
I’m not as Black as Cherry or my father, but I have the same intention and drive. I want my students to see me as a role model, the same way I see my father and Cherry. I want to give my kids the representation they need, deserve, and desire.
I don’t want to fail my students the way the education system failed me.
And I have questions. Why is our own society failing us at this? We preach that we want more diversity in educational spaces, but when the diversity is there, we reject our representatives the opportunity to grow. What does that tell our Black leaders, who have the merit to carry their race as a badge of honor?
What are we telling our kids and ourselves? How are we teaching our children to be allies, have tough conversations, and empathize with their friends, family, and society? Will they take Christian Cherry seriously?
I want them to know that they aren’t alone in mourning. That my heart hurts for them because I
understand how they’re trying to use their voice. That it only goes so loud before people stop listening or play it as background music. As they say, actions speak louder than words. I believe that’s exactly what Cherry did. What my father does. What I want to do.
I do this for 13-year-old Sarah, who wanted to tell people who she was, but was never acknowledged enough to believe she could.
This is as much a cry for help as it is a call to action. Do better, be better, choose better. For Christian Cherry.
I want more for him.
I don’t want Cherry’s death to be another sob story, another news r
