As I pulled into the parking garage, I noticed more protesters out front. Their numbers had nearly doubled since the day before and they were louder, too. Serious-looking brown faces like mine chanting, “Houghton hates Blacks . . . ! Houghton hates Blacks!” An uncomfortably repetitious ditty that could get stuck in your ear and nestled in your mind. A few passing cars honked their horns in support of the protesters as they drove by. The same guilty wash of shame flooded over me just like it did months ago when the protests began. Traitor. Turncoat. I collected a hefty paycheck every month from
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