"Bleeding-Heart Liberal"

We all had a case of the post-Thanksgiving lazies, so my mother was scrolling through Netflix, trying to pick a movie for us all to watch. I somehow convinced her we should watch Hotel Rwanda. In the middle, my father kept pestering me. Asking if I wanted to go hunting with him, if I wanted a gun for Christmas; he did this repeatedly and in spite of my obvious discomfort with the subject. My mom said, about the movie, "It's almost like Hitler and the Jews in Germany."

"Mom," I was a little incredulous. "It was a genocide." 

Somehow, the subject changed and we were talking about planes. The Thanksgiving before I turned five, my dad and I flew to Utah and skied for a few days. On the way there, we were walking through security when my father saw someone we knew. Mr. Napoli is my friend Gaetano's father. (His family's just a little bit Italian.) His fat cheeks jiggled as he and my father joked for a few moments. I knew Mr. Napoli worked at the airport, but I didn't really understand what his job was. He had on a white button-up, black dress pants, and he had a long, black object in his hand as he leaned against the metal arches that sometimes beeped and sometimes didn't. He patted me on the head with meaty hands as my father asked him, "Do you ever, ya know, profile the people who walk through security?"

Mr. Napoli, blond mustache wiggling and balding brow sweating, laughed and said, "Of course."

My father laughed with him and said, in the airport, and then again, standing in the middle of the living room over ten years later, "A little profiling never hurt anybody."

I don't have a lot of words, but none of the ones I have are very nice and I think I just need to go to bed.

“Atticus—-" …said Jem bleakly. "How could they do it, how could they?"
“I don’t know, but they did it. They’ve done it before and they did it tonight and they’ll do it again and when they do it—seems that only children weep.”
— Harper Lee, To Kill A Mockingbird

"Scars and Stripes" Source

"Today I am heartbroken.
Today I am angry.
I’m at a loss for words, so let this speak for its self.
Scars and Stripes, -Acrylic and ink on paper. 

"A lot of people have asked me if it’s ok for them to share this on their site or social media, and to all who have I thank you.
But I’ve left this unsigned and un-watermarked for a reason.
I don’t care much for the credit, all I care about is getting this out there.
It’s not about me, it’s not about promoting my art, and it’s not just about Mike Brown. This piece is about all those right now who are being persecuted by the state for their color. This is for every unwarranted traffic stop, every beating by an officer, every black child who is afraid to walk home from school, not from bullies, or pedophiles, or muggers, but scared to death by the very people who swore an oath to serve and protect them.
It’s not my image,
it’s theirs."