We will continue to see brothers killing brothers. M y white brother loved black people more than I did when we were growing up. This will never change, no matter what he does. I stared at my computer after my screen went black and prayed that it was an accident. And because I am black, I know that if that man would have been white he would be alive today. These new acquaintances would then scan back and forth with such intensity — black, white, white, black — that our faces became a kind of tennis court, with strangers waiting for someone to fault.
Annalise. Age: 30.
I struggled even more with loving that blackness.
Braylee. Age: 22.
I’m black, my brother’s white … and he’s a cop who shot a black man on duty
My mother, with her smooth milk skin, stared at me with eyes that would not unlock from my own. She had probably never imagined having to argue with her black son about her white son shooting and killing an unarmed black man while on duty. And over the years, as he continued playing this game, I became prouder