Growing up when and where I did, racism wasn’t something that was necessarily talked about.
As I write this, tens of thousands of people have gathered for a tenth straight day from New York City to San Francisco, in every state and at least 11 nations, to protest racism and police brutality.
Fifty-four years ago, my father-in-law set out to walk 220 miles from Memphis, Tennessee to Jackson, Mississippi. Even though the Voting Rights Act of 1965 had passed less than a year earlier, a stronghold of fear still gripped African American voters, especially in the South.
Today, we remember Absalom Jones, who was born into a world that didn’t see him deserving of love; a world that didn’t see him or his worth. Absalom Jones was born a slave in Delaware in 1746.
I’m oftentimes asked why I wrote The Color of Life, and if I’m honest with you, the first thing I’ll say is that I never […]