As I would imagine many are, I am watching the unfolding of events in Ferguson, MO with disbelief. Can this truly be the United States of America in 2014? The pictures look like the worst days of our country’s long struggle for civil rights in the 1960s. Even though I know that issues surrounding race have never been “settled,” I had hoped that we were farther along that we actually are.

As a white person, it is often easy to imagine that discrimination and racism aren’t big problems in America today, especially because for many of us (myself included) full-on, flat-out, no-holds-barred racism isn’t present in an easily recognizable and confrontable manner. More often that not, racism is quiet. Stealthy. Sneaky. It is “softer” – a racism of unspoken or alluded-to attitudes and beliefs, born of stereotyping and pigeonholing. When encountered (in our own selves or others) it’s often easier to let it go unchallenged because it doesn’t necessarily resonate in our day-to-day lives.

Unfortunately, “soft” becomes hard when these attitudes collide with actual living, breathing, human beings. This can be seen with painful clarity in the the twitter campaign #iftheygunnedmedown, that draws attention to how the media portray black people – especially young black men when they are made “famous” by being killed. How are these young men made visible? Which photos are used for the public to get to know them? All too often, the media panders to the public’s worst impulses: to stereotype people and distill them down to simple, one-dimensional caricatures.

Each and every human being is complex – a convoluted, unique combination of good, bad, weak, strong, happy, sad, giving, selfish, and everything in between these and other polarities. When we engage in the conflation of an entire person into one static image, we deny his humanity to sooth our fears, and to prevent us from having to face uncomfortable realities. So instead of looking at the scourge of young black men being killed by police and saying, “Why is this happening? Is there a systemic bias that makes these events more likely? Is racism and its ugly history still resonating today?” we can simply say, “Well, he did steal a pack of cigars.” Or, “Why did he run from the police?” Or, “You can tell from his photo that he was a gang-banger.” As if any of this means that (~ insert name of one of thousands of dead young black men here ~) deserved to be shot dead.

As a mom, I wonder what it must be like to be the parent of a young black man. I guess having daughters gives me a certain sense: I have to teach them things (don’t set your drink down at a party, don’t wear head phones when walking alone, don’t be too trusting, etc.) that make me sad. I wish the world were different and young women didn’t have to worry about sexual assault. But teaching a young black male to navigate the modern American landscape is a whole different ball game. Imagine having to teach your son that the police can be dangerous? That the world’s expectations of you are worse than low? That you can do one wrong thing – or everything right – and still end up dead?

And that even after death you can be twisted and molded into the thug that you were not in life. All because that image of you is easier for the public to believe than that the police were wrong. Or downright racist.

So what can we do? We can pay attention to our own biases and assumptions. We can understand that discriminatory beliefs and attitudes are never “soft”; they help create a culture in which some of our young people are not safe. We can care about ALL of our young people. We can speak up for what is right. And what is right NOW is for all of us, each and every one – me and you – to LOOK at what is happening. Don’t avert your gaze. Don’t allow unchallenging, easy, comfortable explanations to win the day. Own up to the ugly, painful realities we too often blithely deny or casually avoid. Work toward a society that values all of our children. Demand that our country live up to its promise. We are all Michael Brown’s family, and we must fight to make deaths like his unacceptable. Not one more.