Teaching my son not to be popular but be himself

     My oldest son is sensitive. He's like me, he doesn't just read books or watch movies. He invests himself in the characters. Let's himself get drawn in and immersed in the fictional world. Consequently, he gets very upset when something bad happens to his beloved characters. He cries. But what he said after watching a recent movie and crying nearly brought me to tears.
     Sitting on the edge of his bed, talking about the day's events and the movie, he told me he was afraid the other kids would make fun of him for crying. He said he didn't have as many friends at school as he used to. The boys were changing, their soft, sensitive, little kid interiors changing in time with their round, chubby exteriors becoming sharp-edged and hard. They cuss and bully each other and seek out other people's weaknesses as buttons to push, something to exploit and make fun of. Our world encourages this behavior. Even celebrates it. 
     And I'm not sure what to tell my son. I've never been popular. I've always had about two or three close friends I felt comfortable and secure with even now as an adult. For the most part, I've never conformed to what the world said was important. I've never worn the right clothes, said the right words, played the right games, or owned the right things. And those times that I did try to conform, stuffed into expensive jeans, primped and polished like a high-gloss Barbie, playing mind games to get attention, I hated it, feeling false and uncomfortable.
     Now, my mother's heart wants to protect my boy from hurt. Wants to wrap him in assurances that he'll always be well-liked and well-loved. But the brutal truth is that he won't be liked by everyone. That's not how the world works. Especially, when we don't share the world's values. Honestly, I don't want him to grow cold and hardened to emotions. I pray that he retains his warm heart, his boundless curiosity for knowledge, his enthusiasm for new activities and adventures. He skips when he walks, he believes any kid at the playground is a friend to play with, and he gives the best hugs.
     Now, I'm not saying he's perfect. He's a bit spastic and can overwhelm others like a Labrador puppy. He's forgetful and possessive of his things. And like all kids he sometimes thinks he needs the latest game or gadget to be happy.
     Yet, he's also content to talk with me about history for hours pouring over maps and learning about the past. If prompted he'll tell you in detail about the Donner Party or Civil War battleships or the Atomic Bomb - facts he's learned about in a series called Nathan Hale's Hazardous Tales. But he'll go one further and discuss the police brutality on civil rights marches in Alabama and question racism comparing the water hoses being aimed at protestors in the 1960s with those being aimed at the protestors of the Dakota Access Pipeline. He'll get teary-eyed when discussing the Holocaust and the shoes of innocent victims piled high in Auschwitz. And I love discussing history with him and teaching him to learn from the past.
     I want my son to be sensitive and smart and empathetic and kind. But the world and the kids on the playground may not. So I also have to teach him to be strong and confident. I have to help him build a wall around his feelings so they don't get trampled on but also leave a large door so that his true friends may come in. I must teach him to see the best in others but not to be naive and trusting of everyone so he doesn't get taken advantage of.
     It's hard. He just wants to be loved by all. A goofy, happy-go-lucky, loving boy who likes to play. I love my boy. He means the world to me, but the world might be mean to him. But I mean to teach him to be strong enough to be himself.