Dear Future son,

When you open your little eyes for the first time
and look around at this great big place you will know
your privilege for the first time. I do not say this
as it is a bad thing, but I do not want you to forget.

When you are older you will say that this system is beautiful
they will shake their heads and tell you that this system is white.
This system was built for you upon their bones.
This is not a fault of yours, but you, you are American privilege.

When you become a man and walk down the street
you will not feel the urge to look behind you.
When they call your name you will not feel
fear brewing inside of your stomach; this is your privilege.

When the masses gather at your doorstep and
call for you to come and march with them
do not be afraid to hold their hands and stand beside them.
Let your voice raise to the heavens and merge with theirs.

Though do not think for a moment that this story is about you.
This story is old, has been told long before you.
The roots of your family tree do not grow here in this garden.
This is foreign ground, tread lightly here.

It is okay to feel proud when you stand beside your brothers and sisters.
Do not forget though, when you go home you can take off your armor
shed it like a second pair of skin, but remember that some people
only ever get one set of skin and some armor does not slip off.

You, like I, will go home to the children and drift off to sleep.
We dream and do not wake to worry about those we call family
we will never have to bear this burden.
This, this is our American privilege.