My first instinct when my son told me his lunchbox story was anger. I wanted to send him back into his classroom armed with pride and an indifference to playground slurs. But I also wanted to shield him. He’s only six! Why should lunch be a battlefield? So, after gently reading him a little lecture on nutrition and the importance of sometimes resisting peer-pressure, I sent him off to school the next day. With a sandwich.
But the incident stuck with me. Although seemingly insignificant, standing up for what you eat, which of course is an extension of who you are, is increasingly important in this Trumpian, polarized climate. Today, symbols of white supremacy are no longer banished to the pages of history books; they show up in our local suburban Maryland schools and colleges.