My son was locked out of the house yesterday, in the middle of a snowstorm.
He called me at work to ask me to drive home and let him in. None of the neighbors we knew were home, and the neighbors across the street are brand new. So he had nowhere to go.
When I told my co-workers that I was leaving because my son was locked out, one mentioned that they used to climb in a window, or pry the door open with a credit card, when they were locked out. And my reply was, “I can’t tell my son to do that”.
My son is African-American and he’s fourteen years old.
When we go shopping after school, I tell my son he has to leave his backpack in the car.
When he’s hungry in the grocery store and sees customers eat food they’ve yet to pay for, I tell him he can’t do the same.
When he wants to take a walk past dark with his friends, I tell him “no”.
If he bounces a ball in the sporting goods store, I make him stop.
He’s not allowed to play with guns that aren’t clearly Super Soakers.
If we’re stopped by the police because our headlight is out, I say, “Remember what I taught you.”
Because my son is African American and he’s fourteen years old.
