It is truly such a shame that such a ritual has to be performed from one generation to the next. My heart felt lower after reading this post but I am also sure that no truer words have been said. I hope one day this tradition will no longer be needed. My sons and daughters will be certainly not be part of the hate this world seems to harbor. God bless those who must bare this burden.
There’s only one problem; he is Black.
And as his father, I am challenged to do for him what generations of African American fathers have had to do for their sons for far too long in this country; I must inform him that because of his unique blend of gender and pigmentation, there are a different set of rules with which he must contend while growing up.
Nineteen years ago, on a frigid December night in Waco, Texas, what was intended to be a quick stop at the convenience store turned into a two-hour lesson on the racial history of America. A teenager, I was wearing a large jacket with a hood. As I readied myself to exit the car, my…
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