Call me "Arlene." I am a white woman with a son who is mixed race/black. He is a teenager at BHS - a good kid, thoughtful and smart.
One day, not long after the Trayvon Martin shooting, I took him to help me pick up some items from a business in Bloomington. I went inside to talk to the manager while my son parked the car. I was having a happy pleasant conversation with the manager, Michelle. My son walked into the business, dressed in the usual high school hoodie, and walked up to us.
Michelle immediately stiffened and said loudly, "What do you want?"
There was a moment of silence, as my son and I looked at each other.
"Michelle," I said, "please meet my son. He is here to help me."
She recovered quickly and shook his hand.
That moment will linger forever in my heart as I saw my beautiful, loving son judged by the color of his skin and the clothing he wore that day. It was not the first time, and it will not be the last. He knows that, and so do I. But for me as a mom, it was one of the most painful experiences, knowing that I can no longer protect him from the realities of our society.
