Part of an ongoing series on healing and reparations
Can you remember when you were 8 years old, somewhere around third grade? Put yourself in that frame of mind.
Imagine adults you don’t know come to your door. They grab you and take you away from your family. Your parents are distraught, weeping and seem powerless. You don’t know what’s going on.
You are taken to a place you have never been before. Nothing is familiar. You are immediately scrubbed with lye soap as some aggressive adult snaps about “filthy savages” to no one in particular.
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