“You My Opposer”

by with One Comment CultureFeaturedRace Relations

[New Contributor]

“You my opposer when I want freedom.” Words uttered by the late great boxing legend and social justice hero, Muhammad Ali, during an exit from a Supreme courtroom hearing in 1971. These sentiments remain ingrained in the fabric of Black America, “Opposer.” Blacks in this country still bare the sour taste of fruits force-fed by past oppressors, and our voice has been silenced and muted for generations thereafter.

Economic, judicial, and inhumane freedom discrepancies, replay over and over. Families and communities left broken and dysfunctional, the residual pain, fogs pathways for clear solutions and answers.

Now in 2020, a 5-year-old black girl stops her father before he leaves their Bronx home and hands her Father a dollar, that he gave to her earlier that day. She tells him, take this dollar for if and when the police stop you. Maybe you can use this dollar to buy a policeman an ice cream so that he will like you…

You My Opposer.

Thee opposer stands before you like a massive brick wall. Impending progress at will. Before it was slaves and chains transitioning to cotton fields and enforced self-hate to police dogs and segregation. Many moons later we feel and face displacement, mistrust, incarceration, and still self-hate. Your opposer is the banker who denies you again for the business loan or that administrator who won’t accept your child in the better private school where you live. Simply you want the opposition to treat you fair. Treat you as an equal; we look and watch other groups and communities have forged themselves ahead. When a judge hits the gavel for others it’s a slap on the wrist, for us it may be the biggest mistake of ones life, and generations involved may never recover.

My opposer makes the air feel thick soliciting trying times. Could my American Dream be others nightmares? Your opposer will hand you a fixed deck asking you to play the game, daring you to win. Thee opposer begins applying pressure. You now scream for help, fairness, justices, compassion, respect, love. But the air is thick now, it slowly becomes thicker more and more. How so you may ask? My opposer’s knee is on my neck. 

You My Opposer. 

“You my opposer when I want freedom. You my opposer when I want justice. You my opposer when I want equality. You won’t even stand up for me in America, you won’t even stand up for me here at home.” -Muhammad Ali

Similar Read: Black Man in America

Professional Fear

by with One Comment CultureFeaturedRace Relations

Quick disclaimer… I’m a former police officer of the Baltimore City police department southwestern and central district. 

“If racism was a butcher, law enforcement is its cleaver.”

That’s not hyperbole, that’s American history. 

From enforcing fugitive slave laws to Jim Crow to today, the continual enforcement of draconian drug and financial laws were created with Black people as the target.

Black people have a rightful fear, not in the sense of being scared of the police officer as a person, but fearful as the police officer as the profession. And that their PROFESSION will give them credence over their life. 

I’ll repeat that. 

Black people have a fear of law enforcement not because they’re tough bad boys, hardly, because their word will have a say over our lives. Not because we’re wrong, but because we’re Black. 

This comes down to a very basic thing. Too many White police officers fear Black people. They see our skin color representing the need to be controlled and thus no regard or respect or life, which is evident by the terror they’ve inflicted on us over centuries. 

It’s that simple. 

Now, what’s to be done about it?

Well, this is not a call to remove law enforcement. No, but to have a proper relationship between citizens and police, we MUST recreate a balance of the people against policing powers. 

What are police powers?

Policing is a state and local issue. The federal government has little to do with it outside passing its own federal laws to be enforced and the occasional federal money and assistance to state and local law enforcement departments with strings attached. Police powers give officers the right to do everything from having their weapon issued to being able to tow your car and lock you up if you don’t sign a traffic ticket. That power also gives them the ability to do a criminal act, under the guise of policing, and go home and watch SportsCenter that evening while another person dies because of their lack of judgement. 

That’s a PROBLEM! And that’s THEE first problem of policing. No consequences! 

Without any true federal laws on the conduct of policing, each and every police department carries out the business of policing very differently. 

You see, there isn’t a federal statute or law or anything to protect citizens from the abuse of policing powers. There is no universal defense as a citizen against a law enforcement officer upon their interaction with you. 

This is not democratic. This is not due process. A police officers’ profession stops at a certain point, and their actions become the actions of a person, not a cop. And they should not be protected with their police powers. This is exactly what happened when Minnesota Cop Derek Chauvin murdered George Floyd, while Mr. Floyd laid defenseless and handcuffed. 

I guess that’s fear of life. (emoji shrug) 

You see, if I worked at an Applebee’s one of the Trump supporters wanted opened, I cannot beat up a rude guest or slap away someone’s food because they didn’t like it. All in the name of Applebee’s…. none of us have that luxury. 

No organization has the luxury of hiding the criminal acts of its members like the police. The job of police officers, to protect and serve, is essential to society… we get that. But what we will not do is allow them to use that as an excuse to reign terror on citizens. 

A federal law needs to be put in place to protect citizens in regard to their interactions with officers… essentially what an officer can and cannot do and say to you. The other is the swiftness of action against an officer when a criminal act has taken place. 

What Derek Chauvin did was murder. Chauvin went home that night. What Amber Guyger did, the woman who shot and killed Botham Jean in his own apartment in Dallas, that was murder. Guyger went home that night. 

Amber got off because of her profession, getting a ten-year sentence for killing a man in his own apartment is getting off. Chauvin will too. If the flames are to ever begin to settle, and tensions calmed, swift and immediate action is needed by our so-called leaders. Reformation of law enforcement is not an issue, but a crisis. A crisis our current leadership is woefully inept to handle. 

Similar Read: Conversation With a Black Man

Conversation With a Black Man

by with No Comment CultureFeaturedRace Relations

Black man, I prayed for you last night… except there weren’t many words. You see, like you I have found myself heavy and burdened with emotions due to the events of the past week… month… years… I know you’re laughing because, “Since when is a black woman at a loss for words?” We can chuckle about that together, but this time I think we both understand why. Really, I prayed because I grew weary of screaming and cussing in frustration about the loss of another brother or sister. 

George Floyd, Ahmaud Arbery, and almost Chris Cooper in Central Park have caused everyone in the world to pause and re-examine his/her own relationship with black skin, and it’s relative treatment in America in 2020. Add to that a layers of pure racism and cowardice that can no longer be masked by a liberal white woman with a dog, racist white men in your friendly Georgia neighborhood, or an enduring system of police brutality that this time chose a knee over a gun. Well, not just any knee, but the patellofemoral joint of an adult white male supporting the full weight of his torso and body transferred through his pelvis down the length of his femur to the approximately 5.5 mm carotid artery of Mr. Floyd. For almost 9 minutes a murderer slowly stole the life of another Black man, depriving him of vital oxygen and nutrients desperately needed by his brain for survival, reportedly because he was resisting arrest even though former Ofc. Chauvin’s hands stayed in his pockets the entire time, devoid of struggle to contain Mr. Floyd. 

So, yes, I prayed for you in the middle of the night when I couldn’t sleep, because enough is enough and- in the words of Fannie Lou Hamer – “I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired.” In the moans and groans of a grandmother on her knees in the middle of the night waiting for her prodigal grandson to return home. I whispered the words and melodies of songs lined out in a hymn by the mothers of the church who maybe couldn’t read or write intelligibly, but knew how to place that note so perfectly deep in your soul that every time you heard it, you got chills. I lifted up a prayer filled with the tears of a single mother who is utterly exhausted and whose true desire is for her and her children to be safe. That “arms wrapped around me” kind of protection that any man wants to give his family as a father, husband, brother, son, and provider, and that every woman wants to receive. Yet I understand that many times, Black man, you can’t because throughout countless generations you’ve been trying to survive, prevent and even run from a system that was designed to lynch or disable you by any means necessary. And while many may disagree, I suggest that safety and security are 2 of the most vital needs for a woman from a man. At home, in our communities, and even on our jobs and in places of worship. Although, Breona Taylor had just that with her boyfriend asleep beside her in their Louisville, KY apartment when the police stormed in unannounced and unloaded a hail of bullets into her body in the middle of the night, not realizing until they killed her that they were in the wrong apartment.

Whether you wanted me to or not, I prayed for you this morning to receive the strength to rise up with God’s help, wisdom and guidance to defeat this enemy of police brutality and systemic racism in America and all over the world. For you to have the courage stand upright as a Black man in your God-given power that the world is so afraid for you to possess, because they know that you would rule if only you realized it was yours. I asked God to hear my heart because no words would suffice to adequately describe the despair, rage, and gut-wrenching pain that it sometimes takes to be an African-American woman who loves and cherishes African-American men. I, hell WE, are praying for you, standing beside you and fighting with you because the security of our children, families and communities depend on it.

Love,

Your Black Woman

Similar Read: Dear Black Man  

Why Are We Scared?

by with One Comment CultureFeaturedRace Relations

[New Contributor]

White America, stop. Look in the mirror and ask yourself, why?

Why does it not bother me that African-Americans are not on equal footing? Why am I scared about the empowerment of Black communities? Why do I not care about the injustices committed against African-Americans? Why am I not scared driving down the street but Black people are?

These of course are all rhetorical questions, but the why has been built into us over generations of discrimination against people who look different than us. We have to look at these questions individually. Not regurgitate a company line that we get from the media or the people we associate with. We have to make these problems personal. Why?

I am the results of the seeds sown by some of the most influential Black men in my life… coaches, teammates, friends, brothers. My story cannot be told without mentioning these men.

White friends, enemies, and family do not be scared or nervous, come talk to me. Ask me questions about these men and what they mean to me. I will tell you about Osi Umenyiora, Justin Tuck, Micheal Strahan, George Falgout, Mathias Kiwanuka, Jason Pierre-Paul, Carl Hairston, Perry Fewell, Antonio Pierce, Barry Cofield, Fred Robbins, Kenny Onatolu. The list goes on and on.

Why are we scared?

Similar read from another NFL player: Dear Black Man

Dear Black Man

by with 3 Comments CultureFeaturedRace Relations

[New Contributor]

Dear Black man,

I’m writing this letter to you from a place of mental nostalgia. From a time and place when you valued yourself as much as you expect others to value you. I’m writing this letter to ensure you you have not been forgotten.

You are built to endure. You are built to lead. Don’t be mistaken for one second and don’t ever lose your sense of self-worth in a world where you’re told you don’t matter. Your life matters contrary to what this world and society continues to show you and portray to you as truth. You are important. For years your parents said walk with your head held high with pride. Now it seems as if you must walk on eggshells to return home at night. And even when you have seemingly done nothing wrong, being a Black man is automatically a sin punishable by death.

I am writing you this letter to let you know we understand your frustrations and concerns. We hear you loud and clear even when you say nothing.  They tell you rioting doesn’t work – it isn’t the answer. They say marching and protesting doesn’t work – it isn’t the answer. Asking doesn’t work. So you’re wondering your next best move. We understand you are baffled at the fact that you are asking for basic human rights.

Dear Black man, my tears fall & my heart bleeds and my soul mourns because my understanding of your fears are all too real.

I feel you because I AM YOU. 

– David

Similar Read: Black Man in America

Can You Hear Me Now?

by with 2 Comments CultureFeaturedRace Relations

[New Contributor]

Remember the old Verizon catchphrase? Imagine if, you will, an entire country of disenfranchised African-Americans screaming that right now. Is anyone listening??  

Let me preface this with the fact that I am a White male. I know the privilege I was born into and I also know that simply based on my skin color I will NEVER know the level of anger felt by my African-American countrymen and women these last few days. Now that we have gotten that out of the way, I have one simple message to the masses protesting: “Burn this bitch down.”

If that sounds familiar to you, it should. Michael Brown’s stepfather uttered this phrase in 2014. Let me say that again for the racists in the back… TWO THOUSAND FOURTEEN. 

Here’s my point…

For all of you telling protesters that they are taking this too far, I would argue that they may not be taking it far enough. 6 years after Ferguson and the same shit keeps happening over and over and over again. When all the public outrage ends and the celebrities point their tweets in a different direction, the clock starts on the next injustice and the cycle repeats.

So I ask all of you (mostly White) people, what would you do?

You showed up to a government building with assault rifles because the government had the nerve to ask you to stay at home for the greater good. I shudder to think what would happen if suddenly the White race was consistently and intentionally targeted by cops for simply being White. So save your outrage. I say “burn that bitch down.” If you wanna hang your hat on the “Most cops are good” argument I say this: You’re right but there are enough bad ones that this brutality keeps happening, so I say “burn this bitch down’.” There are no more arguments to defend this behavior and if you have one, YOU’RE the problem. 

Can you hear me now??

Similar Read: Ahmaud Murdered… What’s Next? Who’s Next?

Black Man in America

by with 3 Comments CultureFeaturedRace Relations

[New Contributor]

A Black man in America has been called a nigger (spelling it fully because I won’t candy-coat this one to make people feel more comfortable) three times to his face as a racial slur, if you were wondering. Each time it was said by a uniformed police officer on duty.

A Black man in America has had guns pulled on him by police officers 4 different times. Each time thankfully ended with no gunshots. Each time ended in no arrests or charges. Each time, that Black man in America was unarmed.

A Black man in America has been arrested without being told why, only to have those charges later dismissed. That Black man in America was denied phone calls for over 24 hours and not told the grounds for the arrest. That Black man in America was later charged with a “blue law” enacted in the 1800s to combat tuberculosis outbreaks. “Blue laws” are laws that cost too much to repeal but are uniformly not enforced. That Black man in America was called a nigger during this arrest and told his people look good in cages.

A Black man in America has been detained as a child under 10 years old by police, while said police “investigate” criminal activity. 

A Black man in America has been pulled over for having a rear tire low on air. That same Black man in America has been pulled out of a car and detained while waiting to get a flat tire fixed by AAA during a snowstorm. That same Black man in America has been questioned about a souvenir bat from a baseball game, as if it were a deadly weapon. 

A Black man in America has been stopped in his car with his family by an unconstitutional checkpoint and threatened with unlawful tickets and searches in front of his child. When a complaint was filed by the Black man in America about that experience, the same supervising officer that conducted the checkpoint came to that Black man in America’s door to intimidate him into not proceeding with the complaint, waking his child during the late hour of 10 pm.

A Black man in America’s worst fear is police violence. Every. Single. Day. 

Every. Single. Time. He. Leaves. His. Home. 

Every. Single. Day. In. His. Home.

That Black man in America is me.

Similar Read: The Coronavirus Pandemic Should Be the Jumpstart to a Revolution?

AMERICAN NOIR

by with No Comment CultureFeaturedRace Relations

“Fuck you! You black asshole!” is what she shouted as she poured the contents of her alcoholic drink all over me.

I had just arrived at a crowded bar in midtown Manhattan to meet a few colleagues for happy hour after work. We were huddled in casual conversation when someone walked by and forcefully pushed me as they were walking by; so much so, that I bumped into my colleague standing across from me. Agitated, I turned around to the culprit and said, “You can say excuse me!”, to which she responded with the racially charged epithet mentioned above. An uncomfortable silence fell over my colleagues as they were aghast by her racially charged remark and wondered aloud if people “like that” still existed.

The story got worse from that point but those details are not important. What is important is that these racially charged moments of aggression are potentially lurking around every corner of the Black experience. I could tell of the time when I was in high school, walking home from basketball practice in my catholic school uniform, when two police officers jumped the curb and drew their guns on my teammate and I. I could tell of the time I was in Atlanta when a cop pulled me over in my rental car and said, “Boy, get me your [rental] papers, I want to make sure this is yours,” before I was then pulled over again less than 3 minutes later by another cop who told me that my headlights were not on (it was 2 pm). I could tell of the time when an ex-girlfriend’s roommate was disgusted that she let a Black man take a shower in their bathroom. I could tell of the time when I was at the Intercontinental in Mexico and the hotel manager said to my friends, “Your Black friend isn’t welcome here.”

All of those horrible incidents of racial aggression don’t add up to the constant barrage of racial microaggressions that occur on a daily basis in the Black experience. Psychology Today defines racial microaggressions as, “brief and commonplace daily verbal, behavioral, or environmental indignities, whether intentional or unintentional, that communicate hostile, derogatory, or negative racial slights and insults towards people of color.”

Standing at 6’1” with a muscular build, I have a comparatively large physical presence. Layered on top of that is the fact that I am proudly dark skinned, so you might better understand some of the microaggressions that occur in my daily Black experience. However, what some may seem to forget, is that before all of those descriptors, I am a hominid (i.e. a human) with dignity.

(Dignity…)

When I walked into business meetings dressed in a suit and got asked where I played football, I know it was an attempt to erode my dignity. When I conducted a meeting and was then asked where I received my education, I know it was an attempt to erode my dignity. Being chased down and emasculated by another visiting employee at my office, who didn’t realize that I also worked there because I was casually dressed, was an attempt to erode my dignity. Conversely, last night, while wearing a custom tux and repeatedly being asked security type questions is an attempt to erode my dignity. Having to suppress my frustrations in fear of being labeled an “angry Black man” while White colleagues have the ability to freely express their frustrations, is an attempt to erode my dignity. Not seeing any Black executives at the company by which you’re employed, is an attempt to erode my dignity. Being told, “you’re not like those Black people,” when you absolutely are just like your Black brothers and sisters, is an attempt to erode my dignity. Being told that you don’t sound like you were born and raised in Brooklyn because you’re well-spoken, is an attempt to erode my dignity. People that have told me that they, “don’t see race,” are attempting to erode my dignity.  Going on a date and being told, “I know I’ve put on too much weight when Black guys start hitting on me,” is an attempt to erode my dignity. Dating someone who says, “my family will never accept you,” is an attempt to erode my dignity. Seeing the recurring violence against Black bodies and the equally as divisive rhetoric that follows on social platforms, is an attempt to erode my dignity. If this reads as an overwhelming paragraph of experiences then just imagine living it every day.  

Then there are the psychological questions that begin to fester in my mind because of the racial climate in which we live. Constantly wondering if I am walking too close to someone thereby putting their feelings above my own, is a subtle attempt to erode my dignity. Sitting across from a new prospective client and wondering how does this person view Black people, is a subtle attempt to erode my dignity. Walking out of an interview and wondering if you will or will not get the job on the merit of your experience and not because of the color of your skin, is a subtle attempt to erode my dignity. All of these thoughts come in a flash but can tally up over the course of time to weigh on one’s psyche.

The experiences above are not shared by my White colleagues and friends and therefore we lack the equality that the Declaration of Independence illustrates. Ignoring this difference continues to marginalize our experience as humans with darker epidermis. Despite the aggressions and microaggressions lurking around any given corner, Black people across the diaspora are not victims, we are mighty victors in the face of an ongoing attempt to rob us of a dignity that we hold so dear. But we will not crumble to any perils that may be lurking around any corners because as Maya Angelou wrote, “I am the dream and the hope of the slave. I rise. I rise. I rise.”

Similar Read: Amy’s Gotta Problem

Amy’s Gotta Problem

by with One Comment CultureFeaturedRace Relations

There is an ire of intentionality behind white violence against black people. But white violence against black men has been at the forefront lately. As I write this post, America has just been introduced to another death of a black man at the hands of a white police officer. There’s something about the history of black oppression in this country that today’s news just lays on the thickest layer of grief a black person in America can feel. Although George Floyd’s life needs to be shared, this story, unfortunately, isn’t about him. 

It’s about Amy Copper and her attempt to threaten and likely kill a black innocent man. It’s deep. While Christian Cooper (not related) was in Central Park’s Ramble bird watching he noticed an unleashed dog. That is illegal in the Ramble and they have clear instructions on their website. He asked the dog’s owner, Amy Cooper, if she could please leash her dog. Among other things, unleashed dogs can harm other animals and humans. Instead of simply complying with a stated law, Amy decides to challenge Christian who then begins to record their interaction with his cell phone. 

It’s important to note that this was his single greatest weapon during this interaction. What ensued thereafter is beyond reproach. Amy begins to approach him and he asks her to back up and she points at him and threatens to call the police. What gave Amy the right to threaten police on an unarmed and non-threatening man? She clearly didn’t like that he asked her to leash her dog and used his race as a weapon to call the police. It was truly disgusting to witness via Christian’s video footage, but it was real. 

The threat of white violence utilizing police is disgusting. Amy emphasized that Christian was African-American in her call to the police. She said he was threatening her and her dog, whom by this time she was visibly chocking because she refused to leash it. Christian continued to record and posed no threat to her. Amy continued to Amy until finally leashing her dog and Christian thanked her and walked away. The ending shows that the police did arrive, but did not find Amy or Christian there because there was no real threat. There was only a disgruntled dog walker and a frustrated bird watcher who had an ugly interaction. 

But we can’t leave this topic without thinking of the many times a 911 call has been used as key proof in a case against someone. Amy, without hesitation, called and told the police an African-American man was threatening her life. As we think about how easily a false accusation could have caused this Black man to lose his liberty or his life it is truly infuriating. What’s infuriating was Amy’s disregard for his life. In a follow-up interview, she told CNN “I’m not racist. I do not mean to harm that man in any way.”

Amy calling the police was intended harm. Highlighting his race on the call was intended harm. Faking an emergency to call the police was intended harm. Having your dog unleashed in an area that is illegal was intended harm. 

Christian was simply asking Amy to comply with a stated law. Amy attempted harm and now expects her apology to suffice. This is trauma. This is black trauma. This is black male trauma. The Amy’s of the world must be stopped. And the Christian’s of the world must continue to record and share.

Similar Read: Are We Surprised?

DEAR WHITE FOLKS: BRING SUNSCREEN

by with No Comment CultureFeaturedRace Relations

I have a diverse group of friends. Over the years, I’ve had great conversations with my White friends about what my experience is as a Black American. Often in those various conversations, a few statements have recurred:

“I won’t ever know what it’s like to walk in your shoes”

“I don’t see color”

“I don’t know what I can do to help”

Generally speaking, all of these statements were said with good intent. So I’ve come up with a simple but impactful analogy that might help shift one’s thinking from apathy to care. 

In my travels and most summers, I love to go to the beach. Growing up in Brooklyn, I never felt that I had a connection or access to picturesque beaches but there is calming quality in listening to the waves crash under the sunshine. I find that the beach is a great place to read a book, listen to music, have few drinks, and/or connect with friends. When I take out my beach bag to leave for the beach there is always something inside the bag that I don’t really need; sunscreen.

Now before you get all preachy on me about the dangers of skin cancer hear me out. First, my doctor tells me every year that I have a vitamin D deficiency. Second, my dark skin can absorb the sun’s rays and I’ve never gotten sunburned in America. Third, my skin looks radiant and I look great with a tan.

So why do I buy sunscreen and remember to take it with me to the beach? I know that when I leave the house for the beach that I will likely be going with other people, of lighter skin (i.e. White folks), who will need sunscreen or else they get sunburned.

Now, I’ve never had a bad sunburn but I have been around plenty of White folks who didn’t apply sunscreen properly and have gotten a bad sunburn. To be frank, it looks awful and extremely painful. Because I’m not apathetic, I’ve asked my White friends to share their sunburn experience with me. What does it feel like? When does it go away? What happens when you touch it? How does it heal? Why did you not apply sunscreen more effectively? You really have to go through this entire sunscreen application process before you layout? Why do you want to get a tan anyway? Yes, I know being darker is sexier but is all this worth it? So I’m thoughtful enough to leverage my Black privilege in this instance to bring sunscreen just in case.

Similarly, when I leave my apartment every day there are things that I have to think about that White folks don’t. I’ve previously written about some of the things that I have to think about when I leave the house. While I can’t speak for the 40+ million Black folks in this country, I can tell you that acknowledging our struggles under the metaphorical sun will go a long way to improving the racial discourse in this country.

You see, Black folks are familiar with the White experience in this country because that experience has remained prominently at the forefront of our culture. In an era where access to information is just a few clicks away, I’ve come to feel that some White folks are simply apathetic to our experience and choose to remain ignorant of the full spectrum of the Black experience. Folks choose to remain uninformed and believe, just as our current administration does, that only negative portrayals of our communities are worth highlighting. 

In his usual eloquence, James Baldwin, explains the White apathy towards the Black experience as a segregated wall where there is no desire to peer over the other side of the wall because there is a conscious effort to remain ignorant of the Black experience. 

In short, we want our White brothers and sisters to look over that wall, we want you to understand the complex spectrum of our experiences, we want you to be curious about how we live, we want our struggles under the metaphorical sun to be acknowledged, we want you to join in our interconnected fight against racism. We want you to bring sunscreen, even if you don’t need it.

“Most of the White Americans I have ever encountered really, you know, had a negro friend or a negro maid or somebody in high school. But they never, you know, or rarely after school was over or whatever, you know, came to my kitchen. You know, we were segregated from the schoolhouse door. Therefore, he doesn’t know – he really does not know – what it was like for me to leave my house, you know, leave the school and go back to Harlem. He doesn’t know how negroes live.

And it comes as a great surprise to the Kennedy brothers and to everybody else in the country. I’m certain again, you know, that like – again, like most White Americans I have, you know, encountered, they have no – you know, I’m sure they have nothing whatever against negroes. That is not – that’s really not the question. You know, the question is really a kind of apathy and ignorance which is a price we pay for segregation. That’s what segregation means. It – you don’t know what’s happening on the other side of the wall because you don’t want to know.”

— JAMES BALDWIN, 1963