There are billboards all over my neighborhood that say:
My neighborhood. Where most of the people of color live, if they live in the city; Somalis, Ethiopians, Mexicans, African Americans, First Nations, Asians.
I was heartened by one billboard that was covered with graffiti.
A nation where we fear one another.
Tonight I stood behind a mom in African dress with a babe tied on behind her. Her kiddo was leaning this way and that. Finally she looked up at me and smiled. Her mom kept patting her on her butt while they waited. I saw a man waiting for a bus today. He held a notebook on his lap and he fidgeted a bit. He was bearded and dark skinned. Something in me broke open watching him. I saw him as a baby, a child, a teenager, a man, a father, a son, a brother, a member of a family somewhere. Sitting and waiting for a bus while the streets are lined with terrorist billboards.