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my first victim
" to her, the youngish black man -- a broad six feet two inches with a beard and billowing hair, both hands shoved into the pockets of a bulky military jacket -- seemed menacingly close "
THUNK THUNK THUNK
At dark, shadowy intersections, I could cross in front of a car stopped at a traffic light and elicit the thunk, thunk, thunk of the driver -- black, white, male or female --- hammering down on the lock doors
... I became thoroughly familiar with the language of fear ...
I was mistaken for a burglar. The office manager called security... I had no way of proving who i was
one day, rushing into the office of a magazine i was writing for with a deadline story in hand,
After dark, in warren like streets, I often see women fear the worst of me. ... set their faces on neutral and with their purse strap strung across their chest.
I've learned to smother the rage I felt at so often for being taken for a criminal. Not to do so would surely lead to madness
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