Member-only story
How A White Privileged Male Experiences Racism
It’s Now What You Think…
The windows shattered around me. My heart beat as if I sprinted a marathon, adrenaline coursing through my veins, like a drug taking over an addict.
We were a bunch of dopey, high schoolers, who finished their Friday night football game.
My three friends and I were on a mission — get to the party.
It had just rained. I could feel the Florida humidity cling to my nostrils.
The “boys” and I hopped into Brandon’s maroon Ford F150. It’s unlikely I jumped but instead pulled myself in.
I was much bigger back then. I was a 250-pound offensive guard, who played next to the more slender, Brandon, our offensive tackle.
We all managed to herd into the party vessel, as Brandon blasted AC/DC, heading to our first stop — beer.
We pulled into a raggedy convenience store. The one where you know shady shit goes down.
It was Brandon’s “guy.”
“Whatever dude, go get the beer.”
We waited. I was likely nervous since we were at the scene of a crime.
