Me and my two sons.
I am not Trayvon Martin. My sons, two white boys living in a small town with less than 6,000 people are not Trayvon Martin either.
They are growing up in a place where 94% of the population is white and only 5 people are black.
I will not have to worry about either of them getting shot in the street because they are white. They can wear hoodies, carry Arizona tea, Skittles, and a cell phone without being deemed a threat.
I have to worry about them growing up in a country where it is okay to kill black children.
I have to worry about teaching them about justice, the illusion that it is blind.
They are not Trayvon Martin, but my heart breaks thinking of the bottomless grief his parents must have in their hearts.