Removed

To the girl who sits two seats away from me:

Thank you

for teaching me, for showing me, the daughter

I do not want to raise.

For showing me what is wrong with this world,

but not quite teaching me how to fix it.

You taught me that an ivory tower education,

complete with a crash course on philanthropy,

and a lesson on retweeting important causes on Twitter

are not what I want for her.

They certainly groomed you well;

the tight braids and expensive glasses would certainly land you in a

J. Crew ad or even better a photo shoot for a feature story in some magazine your

mother’s best friend’s sister is an editor of

or some another connection that’s just enough steps removed to not be labeled as favoritism

or biased

or preferential treatment.

Because according to you everyone should receive equal opportunities.

I’m assuming everyone includes that kid just ten miles away on Skid Row.

You know that kid that you tutor via Skype because your parents are too afraid to let you drive down there in your Tesla.

Your Tesla.

We call it “Your Tesla” like it’s your Hollywood job that paid for it.

But your mobile advertisement that yes, your family does believe in climate change

and we should all do our part to save the whales,

doesn’t help that kid.

That kid who you haven’t even met in person, but whose story you will certainly label on your college app

as “life changing”

as “inspirational”

as “meeting him made me acknowledge my personal privilege and changed everything”

The moments when you are confronted with inequity,

a homeless man on the street,

a bullied Republican girl,

a racist slur cast your friend’s way,

your social activist self slides away into submission,

only to reappear on twitter or facebook or instagram

or whenever

you need to pull a story out of your branded bag that explains why

you feel guilty for owning

that branded bag.

That bag that contains all the different stories you can tell to promote your latest campaign.

Your campaigns against homelessness

or sexual assault or climate change or Trump or poverty or

the other ones that I’m forgetting because there are too many to count

demonstrate that

stating your opinion is the closest you’ll ever get to getting your hands dirty.

Because as soon as someone important, influential, someone who could affect your college application

sees your latest tweet, post, comment,

It’s gone.

Maybe I’m speaking too early.

Maybe in college you’ll finally stop

speaking and start

acting;

you’ll finally experience

new communities and meet

the people you speak

“on behalf of.”

 Maybe college will prove that you are that grassroots organizer you claim to be

and you’ll learn that arguments

and discussion

and disagreements are important.

And deletion is not a solution.

Or maybe you will become your parents.

Your parents whose office shelves are lined with philanthropic awards for their donations of millions.

Your parents who got law degrees and doctorates that they never had to use,

but stored on their parents’ mantle places.

They sit in their own ivory towers and live by example,

showing you how to build upon your privilege

without dirtying that bright white marble your housekeeper keeps so clean.

They who never work too hard, but just hard enough to create the facade of

Passion,

Hard work,

Dedication,

Grit.

Characteristics they believe they have passed on to their daughter.

So,

thank you for teaching that my future daughter

will not sit in an ivory tower

and watch the ugly world pass her by.

She will not delete her opinions for convenience sake.

She will not be ignorant to the plight of others.

She will be grounded in your sense of self,

strong in her convictions, and

be unafraid to reach out to others.

Face to face.

No steps removed.

Sincerely,

The girl who sits two seats away