In the middle of the bridge was a small marker to show the state line. While stopping here to take a photo I checked my phone and discovered a comment on Twitter from a former co-worker. He was replying to an article about my son’s efforts to fight racism in the wake of the horrific situation in Charlottesville.
“My hats off for bravery, but then again I don’t understand who you’re [sic] son thinks he is. Who died and crowned him to be the racist ref?”
Wait. Did he really say that? I had to read the comment a couple times to be sure. Was he defending racism?
“You’re saying he should keep quiet about racism?” I asked.
His reply made less sense to me. “No no, I think he should be more on the lines of ‘racial awareness’. Condoning people is not going to solve the problem.”
By now I was getting as much annoyed as I was confused. His argument seemed to offer cover for the neo-Nazis and white supremacists, though it was so muddled I couldn’t be sure.
“Allowing racists to go unchallenged is tacit approval,” I answered.
“He’s playing with fire and could get more people hurt!” my co-worker tried to argue.
“He understands the risks,” I answered, and decided enough was enough. I needed to get back to hiking, so I put away my phone and crossed into New Hampshire.