Dear White People, I Don’t Hate You

My great-great-grandparents were born into slavery. My grandparents managed to raise my mother and six other children in Louisiana at the height of Jim Crow. My parents managed to raise two black men (one gay) in the South Bronx at the height of the crack era and gang violence. As my wife and I raise our young son, I often reflect on the likes of Amadou Diallo, Sean Bell, Trayvon Martin, Freddy Gray,Sandra Bland, and a host of others too innumerable to mention die over things the rest of the country routinely survives without incident (walking in a strange neighborhood, playing a car stereo too loud etc.).

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