I spend more time lately protecting my black sons from well-meaning people concerned they might be victims of racism than I do protecting them from actual racism.
I am not afraid that my sons might experience occasions of racism. I am afraid that they might see racism everywhere.
As hurtful as moments of racism might be, a lifetime of imagined victimhood would be ruinous.
But the activists claim that if my sons’ black lives matter, I should purge my fridge of Coon cheese.
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