Who Am I to Write about Race?

1964: My brother and I at a civil rights march. Either my sign is turned sideways to the camera or it fell off.

I first learned about race from my father when I was a small boy who had just moved to Florida in 1959. He explained that ignorant people think skin color makes a difference in whether one person is the equal of another, and the most ignorant people refer to black people as “niggers”, and if he ever heard me use that word, I would get the worst spanking of my life.

My family got caught u...