At 12 years old, I watched Trayvon Martin’s case on TV and cried because when I saw Trayvon, I saw a reflection of myself. A young African American boy, in the blink of an eye, could be killed. For several days, I was in a state of shock and anger at the world, attempting to process how a Black boy could be killed for walking in his own neighborhood. My mom began to talk differently to me about...