*This is my response to an editorial piece by Questlove, which you can click here to read
If you put the two of us in a room together, we’d make an odd pair.
You, a black man with access to wealth, influence, and places I’ll never go.
I, a white man with access to goodwill and social capital that no one will ever accord you, regardless of how hard you try.
On the train home from work today, I looked a young black man in the face and we both nodded our heads ever so slightly in the standard greeting of city dwellers. Then I wondered what it would be like to live in his skin, to walk in his shoes.
He was an ordinary looking man, perhaps 25-35 years old, wearing jeans, a shirt, and a sweater. I know nothing about his life, other than that there is a singular characteristic about him that at its core is neither negative nor positive.