Fifteen years ago, on a warm evening in June, I rushed over to the CBS Building on 57th Street in New York.Ed Gordon, then host of a cable program on BET, was prepping for his interview with four women. The topic was hate, healing and justice. In the greenroom I grabbed some water and waited for a producer to mike us up. What happened next deposited me on a continent I have spiritual connections to, vivid dreams of."African royalty" was my first thought at the sight of a beautiful, caramel-colored black woman, regal in her wardrobe and manner. Everyone in the greenroom stared in awe as she floated in. The mystery lady was another guest who would be on the panel with me. Who is she? was the unspoken question bouncing from our hypnotized eyes."I am Kadiatou Diallo," she answered our curiosity. Even after hearing her name, the fatigue from a hurried flight to New York delayed the reaction of my overworked mental files. The stranger saw this as she embraced me. She looked right into my face, and said, "Amadou's mother." Continue reading...
I Thought Amadou Diallo Would Be the Last Innocent Black Man Killed by Police, But I Was So Wrong
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