In my latest piece for The Root I discuss my personal feelings about the post-Civil Rights generation I'm part and wondering if I've done enough to take advantage of the rights others fought for.
Here's a snippet:
I have a friend, a good friend, with whom I share an affliction. He, too, comes from a good family that has done many great things in the face of dire situations, which he and I would learn about only in books. We read about the "Whites Only" bathrooms, lunch counters, the inferior schooling and poverty, things we would never experience firsthand or know, thanks to the hard work of those who came before us.
And yet, neither of us felt good about ourselves. He, a graduate student at a prestigious university, and I, a writer, were both battling a form of guilt -- a survivor's guilt, or what could be better explained as "successor's guilt." Meaning, we were the heirs of a revolution, and this was the best we could do?