I’m thankful, but I still grieve.
I have many things to be thankful for.
I’m thankful to be a man. I love the things typically associated with masculinity: sports, competition, protecting and providing for my family. I like to stand, not sit.
But I grieve for the millions of women who have been victimized by men, women who have been raped, trafficked, and sexually assaulted.
I’m thankful for my racial heritage. I visited the grave sites of my grandparents with my father in Lexington, Kentucky this past week, and listened proudly to stories about my ancestors.
But I grieve for the many Americans of non-European heritage who do not yet share the many privileges that I take for granted.
I’m thankful to be an American citizen. I love to freely vote, to freely worship my God, and to freely praise or to freely critique my government.
But I grieve for the many residents of this land who fear deportation, and who are only able to take the jobs most Americans don’t want.
I’m thankful to be a parent. I love to talk, to play, to wrestle with my sons. They give me joy every day, and I’m intensely proud of them.
But I grieve for parents who have lost sons and daughters this past year, in Syria, in Liberia, and in Ferguson, Missouri.