Playing While Black
People were shouting. I was laying flat on my stomach in the shopping plaza parking lot. My glasses had been ripped off and all I could see was a blur moving toward me. It was either a cop or a security guard. His hands griped the belt holster. I couldn't tell whether it was a gun, a taser, or pepper spray he was about to bring out. I spun around and rolled onto my back with my hands in the air. I wanted him to see my eyes. It was amazing how quickly something could be misinterpreted in public. As I lay on the ground thinking about this, I felt a strange rush overtake me and a smirk of fear and excitement spread across my lips. Over the chaos, I shouted "no no no!" In high school I was on the wrestling team. It was like having 12 little brothers. We would slap, smack, flick, kick, punch, and trip each other for entertainment. Our aggressive affection would come out in practice and flow out into our daily interactions. Our coaches were like our parents trying to ca...