“CAN I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION,” the large black man yelled to a crowded train car. Yes, it matters that he’s black.
“I JUST GOT OUT OF PRISON.”
“I SERVED FOR EIGHT YEARS, AND I PROMISED MYSELF I WOULDN’T RESORT TO LYING OR STEALING OR ANYTHING ILLEGAL. BUT I NEED YOUR HELP.”
Setting the bar high.
“I BROUGHT TWENTY RESUMES WITH ME. DOES ANYONE KNOW WHERE I CAN WORK?”
“ANYTHING WOULD HELP, EVEN A QUARTER.”
Unrelenting, remorseless silence.
“Thanks for your time,” he drifts away, dejected but determined.
The one black woman on the train gets up and gives him a dollar. Yes, it matters that she’s black. Clearly it fucking matters.