About a week after Trump was elected, my wife and I went to a comedy show as a way of getting our mind off of the heaviness of the moment.
The show was called “Black Side Of The Moon” and it was an improv and sketch comedy show put together by some of the black actors of Second City, the famous Chicago improv troop. It was a terrific show. They ran through a gambit of skits about race, Trump and the state of America.
At the start of the second act, they pulled me up onto stage. For the next ten minutes, they put me through an abbreviated history of being black in America, with the roles reversed: I, the white man, was a slave, was denied job opportunities because of my race, was told that I should curb my ambitions, was spit on marching for my human rights.
At the end of the skit, we listened to the revised version of the national anthem. And I took a knee. Because you can’t seriously tell me that you kept my ancestors in chains, denied me every opportunity to advance and continue to breath flames of hatred into this nation and expect me to salute that flag.
So I took a knee and I’m glad to see people continuing to kneel, sit or protest injustice in this country in beautiful, peaceful ways. And we must continue to protest until there is true justice, true equality and the flames of racism are doused with the waters of peace and love.