And my privileges place me also Amid the mass delusion That sees nothing of itself In that man on the horse.
Storytelling can be a driver of equality, but in this country there is a small, unrepresentative group telling only small pieces of a much larger American story.
Rhetoric matters, and it also happens to be one of the sharpest tools in the shed.
The first time I was pulled over by a police officer I was just about to turn 17. I lived in a suburb about 30 minutes away from McKinney, TX. I was on my way to drop off a family friend after the homecoming parade, and I was in a rush because my date was … Continue reading Good Cop, Bad Cop
I was the kind of kid who was too introspective for my own good. A movie that captured my imagination had the ability to make me retreat so deep into my mind that I sometimes didn't speak for hours. In the case of Anastasia I barely spoke for days. There is a special place for … Continue reading Into The Woods
Congratulations, Flower Mound, Texas, you have become the caricature the nation imagines when they they think of backward southern towns where high schoolers hold up white power signs. Flower Mound is also where I grew up. Technically, I grew up on the border of Flower Mound and the less affluent suburb it shares a school … Continue reading The Power of Privilege in Flower Mound, Texas
This discussion was an extension of my piece about the disconnect I feel between being an American and being categorized as "African-American." My part of the segment begins at the 6:18 mark. Click the image to see the video.
Being African-American in America means knowing the country was not made for you. I mean this literally, not figuratively: The country was founded with the explicit legal mandate that in America, black people count as three fifths of one person. You learn that countrymen, brothers, and fathers of slaves fought and died to keep black … Continue reading Learning White-American History