I was struck by the grace and poise of Emmitt’s mother, Mamie Till Bradley. She insisted Emmitt’s funeral—attended by tens of thousands of mourners—be open casket. She invited the whole world into her pain and grief. She demanded we all face the evil and inhumanity of her son’s death.
And now I watch history repeat itself, as it has too many times before.
And I keep thinking about Lesley McSpadden. I keep trying to imagine what she is going through.
But I can’t, really. I’ve never had to raise a black son in America. (more…)