I, like millions of others, have waited for decades to see my reality in America counted. We’re still waiting
I am a brown person.
How do I know? Every time I look in a mirror, a brown person stares back at me. If I were to compare the color of my arms to that of a brown paper bag, I wouldn’t find much difference. But also, when it’s dark outside and I’m walking by myself, white people sometimes cross the street to avoid passing me. Then there are the repeated occasions when I’ve been mistaken for a taxi driver or a drugstore clerk, just because I’m standing beside a parked car or buying deodorant. And while it’s true that I’m not so dark that automated soap dispensers can’t see me, I’m also invisible in a more fundamental way in the United States.
Continue reading...from The Guardian http://bit.ly/2S32Weh
