You know, my father groomed horses at the racetrack and he had a fifth grade education, and he was a janitor towards the end of his life, when he died of cancer at a McDonald’s.
And the reason why I say that is when he took his last breath, one of the most devastating things that went through my mind is: ‘did his life matter?
August answers that question so brilliantly, because what he did is he said that our lives mattered as African Americans.
The horse groomer, the sanitation worker, the people who grew up under the heavy boot of Jim Crow, the people who did not make it into history books, but they have a story; and those stories deserve to be told, because they lived.
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