There is this notion that we, as black and brown people, take great pleasure in talking about racism and oppression. One thing I am certain of is this: no oppressed person finds joy in addressing the very thing that stymied his or her fullest potential. I wish that, like my white friends, I didn’t have to be held accountable for every mistake made by another brown individual. And that, like them, I was assumed “innocent until proven guilty.” What I wish for, more than anything, is the ability to stare into my son’s beautiful brown eyes and reassure him that, in his country, he will be judged
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