For the raced subject in America, the imperative to move on, in the face of painful racial encounters, comes from a place much deeper than regard for social niceties; it arises as a claustrophobic survival instinct. It is about carrying on despite the tear in the social fabric, an erupting phantom, a gaping void that you must sidestep—or be confronted by the utter rejection of your very being by the people smiling around you.
