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…)