Trayvon Martin could have been my brother

Trayvon Martin could have been one of my younger brothers. I think about their caramel and mocha skin tones, wardrobes full of hoodies, and frequent trips to the corner stores. One of them was once stopped by the police, frisked, and told he fit the description of someone dangerous. My brother is not a criminal.

I hurt every time I log on to Twitter or Facebook and see hundreds of familiar and unfamiliar faces dressed in hoodies in support of Trayvon Martin.

This killing in Sanford, Fla., was tragic. A 17-year-old African American, on his way home from the store armed with nothing more than a bag of Skittles candy and iced tea, shot by a neighborhood watch captain named George Zimmerman, who followed Trayvon even after police told him not to.

This young man wasn’t given a fighting chance in life, but after his death, he has millions of people fighting for him. Along with his parents, lawyers, and civil rights leaders, the social media community is gathering and asking piercing questions.

I’ve read questions like these:

Why would a grown man carrying a firearm feel threatened by a 140-pound teenager?

Why did George Zimmerman shoot Trayvon when he was only carrying candy and a drink?

Is Trayvon’s killing a form of modern-day lynching?

Why did Trayvon’s family have to file a “missing person” report to find out he was in a morgue?

Why is Trayvon’s killer free? Where’s the justice?

Social media has provided a digital meetinghouse for millions to join globally. It has given concerned citizens a space to voice their opinions about the injustices in their countries and to lobby others to support a cause that wouldn’t have received such attention without the masses behind it.

I recently read a tweet that stated, “If people feel like ‘Twitter Activism’ doesn’t matter, ask Egypt, Tunisia, and Iran.”

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