That first breath must be delicious. It must be more tantalizing, more intoxicating than any drug, fragrant like no flower will ever be enticing like no body scent. It must be all of this, and more yet without words or memories, how do we know? That first glorious rush of air wants us to keep...

Don’t speak to me of “healing” racism, or “wounded souls” or the “painful hurt” until you are willing to feel the scars on my great-great-grandmother Laury’s back. Don’t speak to me of “values” or “justice” or “righting wrongs” until you are able to feel the heartache...

You’ve seen it. Two black men pass each other on the street. They nod. Subtle, sometimes imperceptible, but there is acknowledgement. “Do you know him?” “No . . . (yes) . . . no.” I learned this from my father and my grandfather and my other grandfather and my uncles and my great uncle and...