I’m A Black Man Carrying The Stars And Stripes. What Don’t I Understand? Every Time I Pick This Thing

I’m a black man carrying the stars and stripes. What don’t I understand? Every time I pick this thing up, I know there are millions of people who are gonna hate me for it. Even now, here.. I feel it. The stares, the judgment. And there’s nothing I can do to change it. Yet I’m still here. No super serum, no blond hair, or blue eyes. The only power I have is that I believe we can do better. We can’t demand that people step up if we don’t meet them halfway. Look, you control the banks. Shit, you can move borders! You can knock down a forest with an email, you can feed a million people with a phone call. But the question is, who’s in the room when you’re making those decisions? Hm? Is it the people you’re gonna impact? Or is it just more people like you?