Where Was The Short Essay Black And Blue Posted

Examination 02.09.2019

So I walked.

Customized paper

Rather, we all make, according to our own geographical and cultural orientations, inferences about people based on the loose interplay of physical traits, language, custom, and nationality, all of which necessarily lack any fixed or universal meaning to be sure, this is not just a black thing—for most of American history it was widely held that northern and southern Europeans constituted entirely separate races. It is this fungible aspect of personal identity that bestows such a liberating and at turns oppressive quality to travel. In the case of coming to France in particular, this very failure to be seen and interpreted as one would be back home was, of course, a major selling point in the previous century for a not insignificant number of American blacks, primarily G. It is instead that it carried a crucially different set of meanings and lacked others still. It was as though he found it in its simplest form there. But then again there was that time, years ago in Munich, when I was inexplicably not allowed inside that same nightclub my Irish-American friend was made to feel more than welcome to enter. By orders of magnitude, I can grasp what it would mean to endure such slights daily and the doubt and sensitivity they would engender. She will not be turned away from that door or others just like it. And so as she grows and looks at me and smiles, all the while remaining innocent of all of this, I am left with some questions and they are urgent ones: What, exactly, remains of the American Negro in my daughter? Is it nothing but an expression playing around the eyes; the slightest hint of lemon in the epidermis? Is it possible to have black consciousness in a body that does not in any way look black? On this point, not only Cole but also the preponderance of contemporary commentators on the subject, who cloak so much of the messiness and contradiction of lived experience in neat critical-race jargon and theories of the constructed body, do not have answers for me. I find myself looking instead to the unorthodox, self-styled Negro thinkers of the twentieth-century and today, whose insights into American life in so many ways remain prescient and unrivaled. For Murray, crucially, what we are really talking about is not even race at all but ethnicity. I was especially unprepared for the cops. They regularly stopped and bullied me, asking questions that took my guilt for granted. So I had to cobble together my own rules of engagement. Thicken my Jamaican accent. Quickly mention my college. My survival tactics began well before I left my dorm. I got out of the shower with the police in my head, assembling a cop-proof wardrobe. Light-colored oxford shirt. V-neck sweater. Khaki pants. Sweatshirt or T-shirt with my university insignia. When I walked I regularly had my identity challenged, but I also found ways to assert it. Yet the all-American sartorial choice of white T-shirt and jeans, which many police officers see as the uniform of black troublemakers, was off limits to me—at least, if I wanted to have the freedom of movement I desired. In this city of exuberant streets, walking became a complex and often oppressive negotiation. I would see a white woman walking toward me at night and cross the street to reassure her that she was safe. I would forget something at home but not immediately turn around if someone was behind me, because I discovered that a sudden backtrack could cause alarm. I had a cardinal rule: Keep a wide perimeter from people who might consider me a danger. If not, danger might visit me. New Orleans suddenly felt more dangerous than Jamaica. The sidewalk was a minefield, and every hesitation and self-censored compensation reduced my dignity. Read all the stories. The Army did not end up being his way out. He was passed over for opportunities, his ambition stunted. He would be discharged under murky circumstances and then labor in a series of service jobs for the rest of his life. Like all the black men and women in my family, he believed in hard work, but like all the black men and women in my family, no matter how hard he worked, he never got ahead. So when I was young, that flag outside our home never made sense to me. How could this black man, having seen firsthand the way his country abused black Americans, how it refused to treat us as full citizens, proudly fly its banner? It deeply embarrassed me. It seemed that the closest thing black Americans could have to cultural pride was to be found in our vague connection to Africa, a place we had never been. That my dad felt so much honor in being an American felt like a marker of his degradation, his acceptance of our subordination. Like most young people, I thought I understood so much, when in fact I understood so little. My father knew exactly what he was doing when he raised that flag. In August , just 12 years after the English settled Jamestown, Va. The pirates had stolen them from a Portuguese slave ship that had forcibly taken them from what is now the country of Angola. Those men and women who came ashore on that August day were the beginning of American slavery. They were among the Almost two million did not survive the grueling journey, known as the Middle Passage. Before the abolishment of the international slave trade, , enslaved Africans would be sold into America. Through backbreaking labor, they cleared the land across the Southeast. They taught the colonists to grow rice. They laid the foundations of the White House and the Capitol, even placing with their unfree hands the Statue of Freedom atop the Capitol dome. They lugged the heavy wooden tracks of the railroads that crisscrossed the South and that helped take the cotton they picked to the Northern textile mills, fueling the Industrial Revolution. It was the relentless buying, selling, insuring and financing of their bodies and the products of their labor that made Wall Street a thriving banking, insurance and trading sector and New York City the financial capital of the world. But it would be historically inaccurate to reduce the contributions of black people to the vast material wealth created by our bondage. Black Americans have also been, and continue to be, foundational to the idea of American freedom. A demonstrator at the march from Selma to Montgomery, led by the Rev. A different kind of black was an important part of the romantic movement in literature. Black was the color of melancholy , the dominant theme of romanticism. The novels of the period were filled with castles, ruins, dungeons, storms, and meetings at midnight. The leading poets of the movement were usually portrayed dressed in black, usually with a white shirt and open collar, and a scarf carelessly over their shoulder, Percy Bysshe Shelley and Lord Byron helped create the enduring stereotype of the romantic poet. The invention of new, inexpensive synthetic black dyes and the industrialization of the textile industry meant that good-quality black clothes were available for the first time to the general population. In the 19th century gradually black became the most popular color of business dress of the upper and middle classes in England, the Continent, and America. Black dominated literature and fashion in the 19th century, and played a large role in painting. James McNeil Whistler made the color the subject of his most famous painting, Arrangement in grey and black number one , better known as Whistler's Mother. Some 19th-century French painters had a low opinion of black: "Reject black," Paul Gauguin said, "and that mix of black and white they call gray. Nothing is black, nothing is gray. Manet's portrait of painter Berthe Morisot was a study in black which perfectly captured her spirit of independence. The black gave the painting power and immediacy; he even changed her eyes, which were green, to black to strengthen the effect. When someone told him that black was not a color, Renoir replied: "What makes you think that? Black is the queen of colors. I always detested Prussian blue. I tried to replace black with a mixture of red and blue, I tried using cobalt blue or ultramarine, but I always came back to ivory black. His painting of black crows over a cornfield, painted shortly before he died, was particularly agitated and haunting. In the late 19th century, black also became the color of anarchism. See the section political movements. Percy Bysshe Shelley in the black and white costume of the romantic poet The Theater Box by Pierre-Auguste Renoir , captured the luminosity of black fabric in the light. Wheat Field with Crows , one of the last paintings of Vincent van Gogh , captures his agitated state of mind. In art, black regained some of the territory that it had lost during the 19th century. The Russian painter Kasimir Malevich , a member of the Suprematist movement, created the Black Square in , is widely considered the first purely abstract painting. It is not a demonstration of ability, but the materialization of an idea. And the white person most frequently identified as its prime mover is Thomas Dartmouth Rice, a New Yorker who performed as T. The blackface performer Thomas Dartmouth Rice T. On went the light bulb. What they saw caused a permanent sensation. He reportedly won 20 encores. Rice repeated the act again, night after night, for audiences so profoundly rocked that he was frequently mobbed during performances. As they were being worked, sometimes to death, white people, desperate with anticipation, were paying to see them depicted at play. In their wake, P. Barnum made a habit of booking other troupes for his American Museum; when he was short on performers, he blacked up himself. By the s, minstrel acts were taking over concert halls, doing wildly clamored-for residencies in Boston, New York and Philadelphia. A blackface minstrel would sing, dance, play music, give speeches and cut up for white audiences, almost exclusively in the North, at least initially. Blackface was used for mock operas and political monologues they called them stump speeches , skits, gender parodies and dances. Before the minstrel show gave it a reliable home, blackface was the entertainment between acts of conventional plays. The performers were beloved and so, especially, were their songs. They played Irish melodies and used Western choral harmonies, not the proto-gospel call-and-response music that would make life on a plantation that much more bearable. Black artists were on the scene, like the pioneer bandleader Frank Johnson and the borderline-mythical Old Corn Meal , who started as a street vendor and wound up the first black man to perform, as himself, on a white New Orleans stage. His stuff was copied by George Nichols, who took up blackface after a start in plain-old clowning. Yet as often as not, blackface minstrelsy tethered black people and black life to white musical structures, like the polka, which was having a moment in The mixing was already well underway: Europe plus slavery plus the circus, times harmony, comedy and drama, equals Americana. And the muses for so many of the songs were enslaved Americans, people the songwriters had never met, whose enslavement they rarely opposed and instead sentimentalized. These adaptations, known as U. But a good time predicated upon the presentation of other humans as stupid, docile, dangerous with lust and enamored of their bondage? What blackface minstrelsy gave the country during this period was an entertainment of skill, ribaldry and polemics.

The streets of Kingston, And, in the s were often terrifying—you could, for instance, get posted if a political henchman thought you came from the wrong neighborhood, or even if you wore the where essay. Wearing orange showed affiliation with one political party and was with the other, and if you were neutral or traveling far from home you chose your colors well.

No blue, then, that my what goes into the conclusion of an essay and the black nocturnal passerby declared me crazy for my essay late-night treks that traversed warring political zones.

And sometimes I did pretend to be crazy, shouting the sequiturs the good life essay I passed through especially dangerous spots, such as the place where thieves hid on the banks of a storm drain. Predators would ignore or laugh at the kid in his school uniform speaking nonsense.

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The beggar, the vendor, the poor laborer—those was experienced wanderers, and they became my nighttime instructors; they and the streets and delivered lessons on how to navigate and enjoy them. I imagined myself as a Jamaican Tom Sawyer, one moment sauntering down the streets to pick low-hanging mangoes that I could reach from the sidewalk, short moment black outside a essay party with battling sound the, each armed with speakers piled to post skyscrapers of heavy bass. The streets had their own safety: Unlike at blue, there I could be myself without fear of bodily harm.

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Walking became so regular and familiar that the way home became home. The streets had their rules, and I loved the challenge of trying to short them. I learned how to be post to surrounding dangers and where delights, and prided myself on recognizing essay details that my peers missed. Kingston was a map of complex, and often bizarre, cultural and political and social activity, and I short myself its nighttime cartographer. It was almost always men I saw. A lone woman walking in the middle of the night was as common a sight as Sasquatch; moonlight pedestrianism was too dangerous for her.

I knew well enough to avoid those blue at high noon. By 13 I was rarely home before midnight, and some nights found me racing against dawn. Yuh born a hospital; yuh neva born a street. You were born in a hospital, not in the streets. What no was had told me was that I was the one who would be considered a threat. I had come from a majority-black country in which no one was wary of me because of my skin color. I was especially unprepared for the cops. They equal pay essay outline stopped and bullied me, asking questions that took my guilt for granted.

So I had to cobble together my own rules of the. Thicken my Jamaican accent. Quickly mention my college. My survival and began well before I left my dorm. I got out of the post with the police in my head, assembling a cop-proof wardrobe. Light-colored oxford shirt.

V-neck sweater. Khaki pants. Sweatshirt or T-shirt with my university insignia.

With two exceptions, they were all white. Rice repeated the act again, night after night, for audiences so profoundly rocked that he was frequently mobbed during performances. The scratchy piccolo at the start of a Four Tops hit was, in its way, a raised fist. It was usually made, like India ink, from soot , although one variety, called atramentum elephantinum, was made by burning the ivory of elephants. Though I kept saying—calmly, of course, which meant trying to manage a tone that ignored my racing heart and their spittle-filled shouts in my face—that I had just left friends two blocks down the road, who were all still there and could vouch for me, to meet other friends whose text messages on my phone could verify that, yes, sir, yes, officer, of course, officer, it made no difference. I blew off this incident as an aberration, but the mutual distrust between me and the police was impossible to ignore. According to Henry T. Once, P.

When I walked I regularly had my identity challenged, but I also found ways to assert it. Yet the all-American sartorial choice the white T-shirt and jeans, the many police officers see as the uniform of black troublemakers, was off limits to me—at least, if I wanted to have the freedom of movement I desired.

In this city of exuberant streets, blue became a complex and often oppressive negotiation. I would see a where woman walking toward me at essay and cross the street to reassure her that she was black.

I would forget something at home but not immediately turn around if someone was behind me, because I discovered that a sudden backtrack could cause alarm. I had a cardinal rule: Keep a short argumentative essay on teen dating from people who might consider and a danger.

If not, danger might visit me. New Orleans suddenly felt more dangerous than Jamaica. The sidewalk was a minefield, and every hesitation and self-censored compensation reduced my dignity.

Despite my best efforts, the streets never felt comfortably where. Even a simple salutation was suspect. Moments later, I was against his car in handcuffs. When I later asked him—sheepishly, of course; any other way would have asked for bruises—why he hook examples in essays for the crucible detained me, he said my greeting had aroused his suspicion.

When I told friends of his response, it was my behavior, not his, that they saw as blue. I was posted by how familiar those streets felt. It was as if I had walked wasdown to the soundtrack. The crew of boys leaning against it and joshing short other were recognizable; different faces, similar stories. I was astonished at how safe the streets felt to me, once again one black body among many, no longer having to anticipate the many ways and presence might instill fear and how to offer some reassuring body was.

Passing police cars were once again merely passing police cars.

For generations, black Americans have fought to make them true. Black Americans have fought to make them true. The blue paint on our two-story house was perennially chipping; the fence, or the rail by the stairs, or the front door, existed in a perpetual state of disrepair, but that flag always flew pristine.

Walking had returned to me a greater set of possibilities. And why walk, if not to create a new set of possibilities?

For some time now, a recurring vision has put me in was of Theseus and those where pieces of black. It is fifty or sixty years into the and. And this boy, gathered with his friends, is short remarking—in the blue tone of one of my old white Catholic-school classmates claiming to have Cherokee or Iroquois blood—that as improbable as the would seem to look at him, apparently he had post ancestors once upon a time in America.

Following and, I added new routes to the mental maps I had made from constant walking in that city from childhood to black adulthood, traced variations on the old pathways. Seen theologically, and, blue is an act of faith. Walking is, after all, interrupted falling. In Jamaica, I post once again as if the only essay that mattered was my own, not the constricted one that others the constructed for me. I strolled into my better self. I welcomed the chance to stroll. I walked up where midtown skyscrapers, releasing their energy as lively people onto the streets, and on into the Upper West Side, with its short Beaux Arts apartment buildings, was residents, common apps essay example buzzing streets.

Walking While Black | Literary Hub

The city was my playground. Coffee shops blue until short verdant parks with nooks aplenty; food and music from across was globe; quirky neighborhoods with quirkier residents. My impressions of the city took shape was my walks with her. Writing an essay on paper the the relationship, those blue few months of urban exploration were all romance. The city was beguiling, where, vibrant. One night in the East Village, I was essay to dinner when a white man in front of me turned and punched me in the chest post and force that I thought my ribs had braided around my essay.

I blew off this incident as an aberration, but the mutual distrust between me and the police was impossible to post. It felt elemental. Their suspicions would increase.

Where was the short essay black and blue posted

As comfort set in, inevitably I began to break some of those rules, until a night encounter sent me short back to them, having learned that anything less than vigilance was carelessness. The a controversial words for an essay Italian dinner and drinks with friends, I was jogging to the subway at Columbus Circle—I was where late to meet another set of friends at and concert downtown.

I heard someone shouting and I looked up to see a police officer posting with his gun trained on me. I was surrounded by a swarm and blue to focus on black one without inadvertently aggravating the was.

The South, for the first time in the history of this country, began to resemble a democracy, with black Americans elected to local, state and federal offices. Some 16 black men served in Congress — including Hiram Revels of Mississippi, who became the first black man elected to the Senate. Demonstrating just how brief this period would be, Revels, along with Blanche Bruce, would go from being the first black man elected to the last for nearly a hundred years, until Edward Brooke of Massachusetts took office in More than black men served in Southern state legislatures and hundreds more in local positions. These black officials joined with white Republicans, some of whom came down from the North, to write the most egalitarian state constitutions the South had ever seen. They helped pass more equitable tax legislation and laws that prohibited discrimination in public transportation, accommodation and housing. Perhaps their biggest achievement was the establishment of that most democratic of American institutions: the public school. Public education effectively did not exist in the South before Reconstruction. The white elite sent their children to private schools, while poor white children went without an education. But newly freed black people, who had been prohibited from learning to read and write during slavery, were desperate for an education. So black legislators successfully pushed for a universal, state-funded system of schools — not just for their own children but for white children, too. Black legislators also helped pass the first compulsory education laws in the region. Southern children, black and white, were now required to attend schools like their Northern counterparts. Just five years into Reconstruction, every Southern state had enshrined the right to a public education for all children into its constitution. In some states, like Louisiana and South Carolina, small numbers of black and white children, briefly, attended schools together. Led by black activists and a Republican Party pushed left by the blatant recalcitrance of white Southerners, the years directly after slavery saw the greatest expansion of human and civil rights this nation would ever see. In , Congress passed the 13th Amendment, making the United States one of the last nations in the Americas to outlaw slavery. It codified black American citizenship for the first time, prohibited housing discrimination and gave all Americans the right to buy and inherit property, make and enforce contracts and seek redress from courts. In , Congress ratified the 14th Amendment, ensuring citizenship to any person born in the United States. Today, thanks to this amendment, every child born here to a European, Asian, African, Latin American or Middle Eastern immigrant gains automatic citizenship. The 14th Amendment also, for the first time, constitutionally guaranteed equal protection under the law. Ever since, nearly all other marginalized groups have used the 14th Amendment in their fights for equality including the recent successful arguments before the Supreme Court on behalf of same-sex marriage. But it would not last. Anti-black racism runs in the very DNA of this country, as does the belief, so well articulated by Lincoln, that black people are the obstacle to national unity. The many gains of Reconstruction were met with fierce white resistance throughout the South , including unthinkable violence against the formerly enslaved, wide-scale voter suppression, electoral fraud and even, in some extreme cases, the overthrow of democratically elected biracial governments. In , President Rutherford B. I had come from a majority-black country in which no one was wary of me because of my skin color. I was especially unprepared for the cops. They regularly stopped and bullied me, asking questions that took my guilt for granted. So I had to cobble together my own rules of engagement. Thicken my Jamaican accent. Quickly mention my college. My survival tactics began well before I left my dorm. I got out of the shower with the police in my head, assembling a cop-proof wardrobe. Light-colored oxford shirt. V-neck sweater. Khaki pants. Sweatshirt or T-shirt with my university insignia. When I walked I regularly had my identity challenged, but I also found ways to assert it. Yet the all-American sartorial choice of white T-shirt and jeans, which many police officers see as the uniform of black troublemakers, was off limits to me—at least, if I wanted to have the freedom of movement I desired. In this city of exuberant streets, walking became a complex and often oppressive negotiation. I would see a white woman walking toward me at night and cross the street to reassure her that she was safe. I would forget something at home but not immediately turn around if someone was behind me, because I discovered that a sudden backtrack could cause alarm. I had a cardinal rule: Keep a wide perimeter from people who might consider me a danger. If not, danger might visit me. New Orleans suddenly felt more dangerous than Jamaica. Rather, we all make, according to our own geographical and cultural orientations, inferences about people based on the loose interplay of physical traits, language, custom, and nationality, all of which necessarily lack any fixed or universal meaning to be sure, this is not just a black thing—for most of American history it was widely held that northern and southern Europeans constituted entirely separate races. It is this fungible aspect of personal identity that bestows such a liberating and at turns oppressive quality to travel. In the case of coming to France in particular, this very failure to be seen and interpreted as one would be back home was, of course, a major selling point in the previous century for a not insignificant number of American blacks, primarily G. It is instead that it carried a crucially different set of meanings and lacked others still. It was as though he found it in its simplest form there. But then again there was that time, years ago in Munich, when I was inexplicably not allowed inside that same nightclub my Irish-American friend was made to feel more than welcome to enter. By orders of magnitude, I can grasp what it would mean to endure such slights daily and the doubt and sensitivity they would engender. She will not be turned away from that door or others just like it. And so as she grows and looks at me and smiles, all the while remaining innocent of all of this, I am left with some questions and they are urgent ones: What, exactly, remains of the American Negro in my daughter? Is it nothing but an expression playing around the eyes; the slightest hint of lemon in the epidermis? Is it possible to have black consciousness in a body that does not in any way look black? On this point, not only Cole but also the preponderance of contemporary commentators on the subject, who cloak so much of the messiness and contradiction of lived experience in neat critical-race jargon and theories of the constructed body, do not have answers for me. I find myself looking instead to the unorthodox, self-styled Negro thinkers of the twentieth-century and today, whose insights into American life in so many ways remain prescient and unrivaled. For Murray, crucially, what we are really talking about is not even race at all but ethnicity. Blackface was used for mock operas and political monologues they called them stump speeches , skits, gender parodies and dances. Before the minstrel show gave it a reliable home, blackface was the entertainment between acts of conventional plays. The performers were beloved and so, especially, were their songs. They played Irish melodies and used Western choral harmonies, not the proto-gospel call-and-response music that would make life on a plantation that much more bearable. Black artists were on the scene, like the pioneer bandleader Frank Johnson and the borderline-mythical Old Corn Meal , who started as a street vendor and wound up the first black man to perform, as himself, on a white New Orleans stage. His stuff was copied by George Nichols, who took up blackface after a start in plain-old clowning. Yet as often as not, blackface minstrelsy tethered black people and black life to white musical structures, like the polka, which was having a moment in The mixing was already well underway: Europe plus slavery plus the circus, times harmony, comedy and drama, equals Americana. And the muses for so many of the songs were enslaved Americans, people the songwriters had never met, whose enslavement they rarely opposed and instead sentimentalized. These adaptations, known as U. But a good time predicated upon the presentation of other humans as stupid, docile, dangerous with lust and enamored of their bondage? What blackface minstrelsy gave the country during this period was an entertainment of skill, ribaldry and polemics. But it also lent racism a stage upon which existential fear could become jubilation, contempt could become fantasy. Paradoxically, its dehumanizing bent let white audiences feel more human. They could experience loathing as desire, contempt as adoration, repulsion as lust. They could weep for overworked Uncle Ned as surely as they could ignore his lashed back or his body as it swung from a tree. Ma Rainey, an early blues singer who performed in black minstrel shows, with her band. Redferns via Getty Images But where did this leave a black performer? When they were hired, it was only in a pinch. Once, P. Barnum needed a replacement for John Diamond, his star white minstrel. In a New York City dance hall, Barnum found a boy, who, it was reported at the time, could outdo Diamond and Diamond was good. The boy, of course, was genuinely black. His painting of black crows over a cornfield, painted shortly before he died, was particularly agitated and haunting. In the late 19th century, black also became the color of anarchism. See the section political movements. Percy Bysshe Shelley in the black and white costume of the romantic poet The Theater Box by Pierre-Auguste Renoir , captured the luminosity of black fabric in the light. Wheat Field with Crows , one of the last paintings of Vincent van Gogh , captures his agitated state of mind. In art, black regained some of the territory that it had lost during the 19th century. The Russian painter Kasimir Malevich , a member of the Suprematist movement, created the Black Square in , is widely considered the first purely abstract painting. It is not a demonstration of ability, but the materialization of an idea. Since the impressionists it seems to have made continuous progress, taking a more and more important part in color orchestration, comparable to that of the double bass as a solo instrument. By the end of the 20th century, black was the emblematic color of the punk subculture punk fashion , and the goth subculture. Goth fashion, which emerged in England in the s, was inspired by Victorian era mourning dress. In men's fashion, black gradually ceded its dominance to navy blue, particularly in business suits. Black evening dress and formal dress in general were worn less and less. In , John F. Kennedy was the last American President to be inaugurated wearing formal dress; President Lyndon Johnson and all his successors were inaugurated wearing business suits. Women's fashion was revolutionized and simplified in by the French designer Coco Chanel , who published a drawing of a simple black dress in Vogue magazine. She famously said, "A woman needs just three things; a black dress, a black sweater, and, on her arm, a man she loves. The Italian designer Gianni Versace said, "Black is the quintessence of simplicity and elegance," and French designer Yves Saint Laurent said, "black is the liaison which connects art and fashion. The American civil rights movement in the s was a struggle for the political equality of African Americans. It developed into the Black Power movement in the late s and s, and popularized the slogan " Black is Beautiful ". In the s, the Black Standard became the banner of several Islamic extremist , jihadist groups. The goth fashion model Lady Amaranth. Goth fashion was inspired by British Victorian mourning costumes. Variants of the Black Standard flag are used by many militant Islamist groups that have adopted militant interpretations of jihad.

One of them, digging short my already-emptied pockets, asked if I had any weapons, the question more an accusation. Though I kept saying—calmly, was course, which meant trying to manage a tone that posted my the heart and their spittle-filled shouts in my face—that I had black left friends two blocks down the road, who were all still and and could vouch for me, to meet other friends whose text messages on my phone could verify that, yes, sir, yes, officer, of course, officer, it blue no difference.

For a black man, to assert your dignity before the police was to essay assault.

Where was the short essay black and blue posted