On Racial Division and Love
In 1968, I was 13 years old and living where I grew up in the Lower 9th Ward of New Orleans. One summer day my mom sent me to Puglia's Supermarket to buy a $100 money order for her. On my way to that store, seven men, all about 18 years old or so, jumped me because my skin color was different than theirs. They were prepared to do this to someone as they were all armed with short pieces of sawed-off broom sticks. Earlier that year, someone had murdered Martin Luther King for h