In light of Trayvon’s plight, I have worried, gotten upset, cried, felt deep concern. For his family — as a mother I can’t even imagine the hurt and loss his parents and entire family must feel. I hurt for the divide that seems to loom in the country, dividing at times on racial and even political party lines. While some demand justice, others pass judgment. I cry for the untold stories of others who have encountered unfair treatment that have never received media attention and outrage. It is in this kind of moment of loss and divide, I hope to discover something that speaks to me and to others about the plight of those many souls misunderstood, misrepresented, quickly judged and for some, no longer here to defend their case. Enter the 50th anniversary of Harper Lee’s novel, To Kill a Mockingbird. President Obama hosted a screening of the film at the White House on Thursday evening and will introduce a restored version of the film on the USA cable network on Saturday night. This is timely and compelling news. I am extremely grateful to learn about the opportunity for this film to enter our current discussions on justice and fairness.

I loved this book as a child. I remember that growing up in The Bahamas there was a tattered and torn copy among numerous books on an old wooden book shelf in my parents’ living room. I watched two of my older brothers as they would take the book up often, reading and sometimes annotating pages way before I even discovered the beauty of this novel. When I was finally old enough to read the book for myself, I perhaps in part imitated my brothers’ example. I read it over and over again. I would open the book to a random page and reread select passages. I fantasized how I would write a novel of my own in which I could depict similar themes. Like most fans of the novel, I was transported to that small Southern town, watching the events of the adults through the eyes of Scout, her brother Jem, and their friend, Dill. Yes, Tom Robinson’s case speaks to us, even today. Yes, Atticus’s defense is a nuanced and powerful speech on collective integrity and social justice. Yet, I remain awestruck by Lee’s depiction of the interaction between those children, the other townspeople, and their bogey man, Boo Radley.

It was in that part of the story that I learned about the pain caused by misunderstanding another, casting someone beneath your own sense of self and choosing to never analyze or question how you got to the finality of your judgment in the first place. Most of all, I felt intense empathy for a character that was isolated from society and yet, loved children and was a gentle and kind soul. It was through the eyes of those children, not tainted by social convention or peer pressure, that throughout the fifty year span of the book publication and film production, we as readers and film viewers realized that Boo really wasn’t so bad after all. These unassuming children turned learning about a secret into a game, only to finally realize that in their quest to “bring Boo Radley out”; Boo was looking out for them all along.

We need this story today as we appear to march towards a precipice of cultural misunderstanding, where debates about race, class, and gender make us fearful, resentful, and jaded. We need the sense of wonder and openness of those children and, of course, the courage and dignity of some of the other characters like Atticus, Maudie Atkinson, and Link Deas. We should remember the capacity that we all have to care deeply for each other and that in our interactions we can display more than mere cordiality or political correctness. This capacity for empathy, duty, and meaningful concern for another’s experience is what makes our time here worth the while. At least that’s how I see it.