Trayvon Martin is my son.
I don't mean that literally. I have no relation to the Martin family and I never met the boy. I only know him as you do, from accounts from his family, friends, his family's lawyer, filtered through the media. That's hardly knowing him at all, really.
But Trayvon Martin is my son.
I can't, really, feel the agony that has to be going through his parents' hearts at this moment. Not just the loss of one's child -- but the pointless, shabby loss, with the child's name besmirched, criminalized. Because of a system that allows children to be labeled suspicious. Because of a law that says being a paranoid is a justification for manslaughter. Because the people who are supposed to protect the innocent and the helpless are protecting this boy's killer. In fact I thank god that Trayvon Martin is not my son, and that my sons are home safe in bed and not lying in a morgue.
Trayvon Martin is my son.