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The Color of Violence and Fifteen Minutes of Infamy

The Color of Violence and Fifteen Minutes of Infamy
    “Nine people shot in a church.” That’s what came across the airwaves when I turned my car radio on. My heart sank thinking about the victims. They weren’t robbing a bank or attacking anyone. They weren’t resisting arrest. They were in church. Not just in church, but praying in church. Who guns down parishioners in a church? I couldn’t help but think about the times I had attended Bible Study and Prayer Meeting, never once imagining that I would be sprayed with bullets.   While listening to the report unfold, I never thought about the race of the killer or the victims. I didn’t see white or black, but only red—blood on the floor, on the pews, on the Bibles. It was only when I saw the story on the Internet that I learned the gunman was a young white man and that the people he savagely slaughtered were black. Was this new knowledge a game changer?   Did it make me angrier? Did it make me want to strike out against the white perpetrator? Did it make me hate all white people?   The answer to all the aforementioned questions is, “No.” &...
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