As the father of a young son, I’ve been particularly struck over the past few days by my own privileged position in our society, as I was last year when George Zimmerman shot and killed Trayvon Martin.
I never have to advise my son to avoid wearing some article of clothing because he might look suspicious to a vigilante. I never have to tell him that our neighborhood might be dangerous place for him to walk around. I don’t have to warn him that some people might not like him simply based on the way he looks.
My son — purely by virtue of his white skin, blonde hair, and blue eyes — will never have to deal with issues such as these. And I, as his father, won’t have these concerns about him and his well-being.
Given the myriad worries and fears associated with raising a child, I’m incredibly fortunate not to have to deal with these issues too. And I’m very mindful of the fact that it’s a mark of my privileged position in our society that I won’t have to try explaining these things to my son.