My son remains in Harlem. He says that last night was busy with gunshot wounds, heart problems, stabbings, but no COVID. He is coming home finally, on Wednesday. Eight weeks of working in Harlem.
He also tells me that there is a protest scheduled in Harlem today. The people there were once happy that he was there to help, but no longer. Now he gets called cracker, honkey, and other racial epithets. He points out to people that he flew more than 1,000 miles to Harlem to help minorities in the middle of a pandemic, and yet still gets called racial names and told that he is a racist. He said that, as far as some are concerned, there is nothing that anyone with white skin can do, you will always be viewed as a racist and hated for it, simply because your skin is lighter in color that theirs.
So much for MLK’s dream.