For literally decades, calls have gone out by civil and human rights advocates to remove of the battle flag of the Confederacy from public sites like state capitol grounds and other government buildings.
Did you know that California is not in the West and that the "real America" is the Old Confederacy?
The last thirty years have seen private sector dominance of government. The results are disastrous and clearly seen. Tax codes and laws were established to benefit specific corporations and industries, while creating barriers to entry for new technologies and small companies.
If Christians actually modeled intimacy in singleness and marriage and not fake pictures of happiness and how-tos on managing loneliness, then maybe people would want to know the Christ that we profess and the marriage He defines.
Removing that symbol -- with very public dialog about why it needs to be removed -- is one step towards excising the larger, persistent social ill that is racism.
Much of what made up the air I breathed as a little white girl growing up in lower Alabama was revisionist history. The "South" that I love and have been desperately homesick for doesn't really exist.
The U.S. is enslaved by its past. That's what no one has said yet. An undead racism still stalks the American consciousness, and it will, once again, regroup, Confederate flag or no Confederate flag. What this moment of awareness calls for is true atonement for our history.
Preserving a symbol of slavery and black subjugation sends a threatening and terrifying message that black lives -- and the lives of other oppressed individuals -- do not matter.
None of the official condemnations closes the case. There are too many searing questions raised by this pool-party video for it to be buried and forgotten, and it fits too jarringly into an emerging national context as new as social media and, at the same time, 400 years in the making: In America, if you're black, you're automatically the enemy.
In December I participated in a forum at Uniondale High School in Uniondale, New York on "Policing in America: Should Uniondale Care about Ferguson?" It was organized by social studies teacher Adeola Tella-Williams and students in her Participation in Government class.
I wish I could give a more flowery, touristy account of the experience, but to be clear, it also gave me some deeper, more "positive" revelations. I was standing in the history of colonialism. But maybe more than that, I was the history of colonialism.
If you live in Baltimore, or anywhere in the United States, you shouldn't be surprised by the anger, the poverty, the police violence, and the hopelessness. All you have to do is sing the national anthem, written after witnessing the bombardment of Baltimore Harbor by the British during the War of 1812.
The April riots in Baltimore, Maryland, were shocking, but in retrospect, should not have been a surprise. The tensions between the police officers and African Americans living in segregated, inner-city communities have been festering for decades.
A fundamental element of majority privilege is the blind universality that members of an ethnic, religious, racial or sexual majority often unconsciously embrace. They believe that their perspectives are held -- or should be held -- by everyone.
Regardless of how you may feel about some of the recent issues we face, please don't let them tear us apart as people. We have to put our humanity first because we are all in this together.
The FHA wasn't passed to promote "separate but equal" as a second-best solution in housing policy; it was passed to end segregation, meaning that low-income housing opportunities must be created outside of segregated neighborhoods to provide more options for segregated residents.