What can a white man, in the nation’s second-whitest state, say about the tragedies of violence and racism that continue to tear our country apart?
I sat down to write this column in Carol’s Hungry Mind Cafe, where the flow of coffee and friends on laptops can stir the creative juices.
But I had to go home to finish this. Because I didn’t want to have to explain to everyone in the cafe why I was crying.
Crying for all the decades of murdered black victims of white police violence — people who died because they were black.