This infrequently used blog has awakened for a timely guest post from Eddie Hatcher.
I’m a racist. There is no known cure, so best I can hope for is to minimize the symptoms. I’ve struggled my whole life to do just that, but I still can’t help but feel partially responsible for Trayvon Martin’s death. I carry this guilt because nothing I do is enough to combat the system I once gladly took part in.
I grew up in a small North Carolina town surrounded by farms and factories. What I learned about racism, I learned hanging out in hunt clubs, on farms, in country stores, and in gun shops. We often talked about race, but never about racism. Everyone knew that racism stopped existing after Integration. In our minds, we were not discriminating against anyone because of their skin color; we were simply describing the way people acted, their…
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