Trayvon Martin's murder: so sad and so infuriating

This was Trayvon Martin. He was 17. I didn't know him, but every time I look at his picture, I see the kids that I love in the schools in which I am lucky enough I spend time. I see my kids' friends. And I see my own sons.

In Sanford, Florida, Trayvon was killed by a "neighborhood watch" vigilante on February 26 while walking from the corner store after getting candy and a drink.

I am not well versed about whether it will make a difference, but I urge you to sign the Change.org petition that Trayvon's family has created that asks that his murderer be prosecuted. I did, and was grateful for the opportunity to add my voice to the many thousands who are outraged that kids aren't safe on the streets because of the color of their skin, because of what they're wearing, because of any reason.

Many people are speaking up and speaking out to protest the outrage that Trayvon's killing has sparked. I listened to "The Lingering Memory of Dead Boys," an NPR commentary yesterday from writer Tayari Jones. I urge you to do the same if you need any reminder that Trayvon is one of so many who were scared, hurt, and killed while walking black, while being black, while being themselves.

My heart goes out to his family, and I hope that somehow, this reminds us to value all of our kids in ways that make them safer in this world.