RACISM
The King of All Blacks
How even the most innocuous discussion of America’s history of racism triggers white men
I did a couple of unusual things recently. One was a new experience; something I’d thought of trying for a long time. The second was something I’d done more times than I care to admit. About three months ago, a friend suggested I audition for a part in a theatrical production of Arthur Miller’s 1947 play, Death of a Salesman. The play is widely considered a literary masterpiece, so I was intrigued by the idea.
To be clear, I had no previous acting experience. However, I possess just enough hubris to believe I can master almost any situation if given the opportunity. So, with the genetic certainty that lets us men convince ourselves we can dunk basketballs regardless of athletic ability, or locate destinations without asking for directions, I accepted the challenge.
Fortunately for my ego (and my family’s sanity), I got the part. And thus, as is the nature of all one-hit wonders, I am using this and other forums to milk my fifteen minutes of notoriety for all its worth, hence the numerous photos of yours truly scattered throughout this post.
That other thing isn’t something I’m proud of: I got into an argument on social media. While I frequently…
