The world is a scary place.

I don’t think we really acknowledge that enough. The things that can befall you as you move from place to place are the realities of life. Every day that I wake up and prepare to move about in the world, I know more than I knew the day before and maybe that keeps me safer. Or maybe it doesn’t. Regardless, I understand more about the motives of people, the dangers of life and the way things just are.

But if you’re young and don’t know much and are just minding your own business, what then?

I resisted the obligatory piece on Trayvon Martin and the tragic events that surrounded his death, until I couldn’t. Until I thought about the young men that I work with and even my own brother and I imagined what it must be like to know that someone you love and care for was killed so meaninglessly. I thought about his girlfriend, on the phone urging him to run and his insistence that he wouldn’t. And what for? He wasn’t doing anything wrong. I thought about what it must be like to lose a son and a friend in this flowering time of his life. I thought about it all and I figured that one more piece on the internet, one more dispatch of letters wouldn’t hurt.

Someone, somewhere decided that Trayvon’s life was worth less than that day’s pride. We know who. That, older and wiser and bigger, he was threatened and needed to shoot. That he should defy police orders, leave his car and accost someone’s baby. And later, somewhere else, others decided that man was right. That it wasn’t quite criminal to murder a young man armed only with Skittles and a can of iced tea walking home one evening. The jury of your mind should tell you better.

One thing I’ve learned about the world is that everything you do has recourse. We want swift recompense; a measure of justice. My knowledge of the world tells me that it may not happen that way. Pressure, applied to the correct places is helping and I feel as though there will be a day in court for this man who felt threatened enough to take a child’s life. But I’m certain of this: he will get what he deserves. Life will reign down blows until he can take no more, be they legal or karmic. You cannot do evil and expect to endure no wrath. I know that much about the world.

I don’t have the most elegant words to say. I don’t know them. So many others have them and have used them. I know that my heart hurts to think about this. I know that I mean what I say when I tell the ones I hold dear to be careful, knowing full well that careful actions won’t ensure a thing. It’s all we have though.

Click here to sign the petition to prosecute Trayvon’s killer.

I’m probably not alone in defining my womanhood, at least to a certain degree, by a set of organs carefully hidden inside my body. Masterfully tucked inside of me, there is a womb. A potential home for a baby. I carry a uterus and other stuff that make me, undoubtedly, a woman.

But what if those things weren’t there? Would I still be a woman? I’m watching, with interest, the case of Caster Semenya, who is (possibly) just learning that she’s missing a valuable piece of the puzzle that is womanhood – her womb. And while there are other issues surrounding this, what I immediately thought of was how that must feel. While it’s one thing for that area of your anatomy to lay dormant, it’s entirely another to consider it a vacancy. Where there should be something, there is nothing. I imagine it an emptiness far beyond the mere absence of children. What must it be like to know that even if you tried really hard, with in vitro and pills and whatever else they’ve dreamed up, you’ll never birth a child because you have no where for that child form. I’m not even sure my internal equipment is actually working, but I do know it’s there. I take it for granted, this sacred space that’s been created inside of me. Most women who choose not to have children or are unable to for some medical reason still have a place inside them where life, theoretically, could grow. What if it didn’t even exist?

I’d still be a woman, even if that defining attribute was absent. I know how I feel and I think that’s all that matters. Would a man consider me a woman knowing that our interiors were eerily similar? I’m not sure. How we define what a woman is might be one of the most interesting questions I’ve pondered in a while. Is a woman the opposite of a man? Well, what if she’s just opposite on the outside? What if she’s opposite, but doesn’t look like a woman. Not she dresses like a man or presents herself as a man, what if she genuinely looks like a man? Are you a woman if no one will treat you as one? Are you a woman if no one believes you are?

I’d never given any of this a thought until lately, but apparently it’s an issue for a lot of women. Some statistics say 1 in 5000 women are born without a womb, a condition called MRKH. There are a lot of sad conditions in the world, but this struck me as particularly sad, because even though I’ve never actually seen my womb, it’s very much a part of me. I suppose I assumed it was a part of every woman’s identity. But there are many components to building an identity. I’m convinced that what you know as your truth is more important than anything else. There are no mistakes when it comes to our Divine creation, all the mistakes come in our perceptions. A woman can be a woman, even if she’s technically not a “wombman”.

I get it. We have to have some measure. The kids should be able to pass the test. (Well, that’s arguable.) But you haven’t seen their faces. You don’t know how miserable these kids are after attempting a test 5 times, not passing it and being faced with not graduating from High School no matter how well they’ve done in class. It’s a heartbreaking moment.

The alternative is private schools, but not any private schools. These are pretty much diploma mills. Most of them only have classes 2 days a week. I signed withdrawl papers for a girl today; she graduates from the private school next week. She will have attended 3 days of school.

Students who are economically disadvantaged and/or minority are most affected by the whole thing. The people who can least afford to pay for an alternative school and most need a high school diploma are the ones who get shafted in the end. You aren’t suprised, are you? Tuition costs more the closer to the end of the year, despite the fact that the kids will only be there for a few days, because parents and kids are desperate. So either you pony up the money (if you can) or you don’t get a diploma from anywhere. No child left behind…if you can afford it.

Our kids shouldn’t be reduced to this. This is a fun part of the year, as I teach seniors. It’s also the saddest part of the year for me, because I know we failed those kids. You shouldn’t have to go pay nearly $1,000 to enroll in a private school for 3 days to get a diploma in the rec room of a community center. You shouldn’t be studying for a GED after 12 years of school. If they’ve passed their classes, those kids should be at graduation, walking across the stage with their classmates.

But they won’t.

Man, I wish someone could’ve taken a picture of me on the water slide. HAHA! I kept falling.