But seeing them beating that man on television, it must have scared me so deep, in a place so hidden, that I didn’t even know about it. My brain kept playing as though I were a regular teenager. But my body. My body ma. The body you gave me. My body knew the truth. My body locked the door from the inside without me even knowing it.
Carvell Wallace writes a moving letter about racism and violence, from Rodney King to Charleston, to his departed mother over at The Toast.
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