That perpetual sense of boundless possession, of never having to seriously entertain the concept of no, of never feeling unwelcome, that urges them to act as if consequences are a thought exercise and ramifications are a hypothesis, coursed through me as the reality of the blackness of the president-elect—my black-ass president-elect—permeated the atmosphere. For the first two hours following the election of Barack Obama, I knew how it felt to be a white American. And you couldn’t tell my black ass nothin’.
