“Are you sure you want to wear that out in public?”

I was just about to head out on a Saturday night when my mom posed this question to me, and it caught me off-guard. I didn’t think my outfit was too offensive. I was sporting sneakers, jeans and a hoodie, which is what I normally wear out of the house.

But ever since Trayvon Martin, a black, hoodie-wearing teenager, was killed inFlorida, this article of clothing has become public enemy No. 1

The tragedy has captured the nation’s attention, leading many to warn parents about the dangers of letting their children walk about in these “thug-like” outfits. My mom is just the latest to be swept up in the hoodie paranoia.

This was the most recent in a long string of events that have scared Americans and made them react irrationally. Just like we are afraid of hoodies now, we were afraid of low-flying planes in the months after the attacks of September 11th. We broke a sweat whenever we noticed the guy standing in front of us at airport security was wearing a turban.

It’s a natural reaction to a national tragedy.

I groaned, assured her that I wouldn’t get myself shot by anybody and proceeded to walk out my front door.

It was only when I pulled my car onto the Post Road that I began to think about why my mom was so scared for me, and it made me feel great about the direction our country is heading in.

Everyone who has heard about this tragedy has, for whatever reason, put themselves in Martin’s shoes. When I read the first accounts I didn’t just see a dead teenager. I saw a fellow 18-year-old who, like me, was probably worrying about the college process, or, like me, was trying to figure out who he was going to ask to prom.

Martin could have been me.

When parents heard the story, they didn’t just see a dead person. They saw a dead son. They saw a fellow parent’s pride and joy. They saw the kid that they loved with all of their hearts, and the person they could never imagine losing or having to bury. Even our president felt a connection to the case.

Martin could have been his kid.

Younger kids saw their brother. Older Americans saw their grandchild. Teachers saw their student. Somehow, Martin has touched a nerve and struck a chord with the people of this nation.

We all may not agree on the details of the case, but we can all agree that the death of a young American is tragic.

This empathy that we feel is one of the things that makes America the greatest country in the world.Americais such a large land with so many different types of people. Yet, when tragedy strikes, we feel strong connections to our fellow citizens, no matter how far away they are.

Sure, a farmer inAlabamamight crack jokes about an elitist liberal living inNew York City. Yet, when the towers fell, that farmer was waving his American flag just as proudly as the New Yorker.

Martin’s death also shows a dramatic evolution in racial acceptance in this country.

Half a century ago, a black kid dead on a Southern street was just another black kid dead on a Southern street. Now, he is the top news story. He is the son of every parent and the brother of every kid. Martin’s story has captivated this country because Americans can connect to him, not as an African American, but simply as an American.

My mom viewed an event that happened over a thousand miles away to somebody else’s child as if it were her own flesh and blood.

That sense of compassion during hard times is what this country is all about.