Yesterday afternoon I heard a commotion out front.
I opened the screen door to see three young teenagers, maybe 14 or 15-ish, standing at the end of my driveway yelling expletives and pointing at the [Black Lives Matter] sign in my yard.
I stood there, mute, and a little afraid. “That’s fucked up!” they said. Then they saw me and began walking away. I felt so angry, but tears came and I barely got out the words “hey, that’s not ok!” They didn’t even look back, but I could hear them laughing and snickering.
I stood there sobbing for those children whose hearts have been filled with hatred through a hideous cycle of generational racism. And also for the shame I feel at having stood silent in a moment that called for grounded words and presence.