Growing up in the northern metropolitan area of Boston, the only racism I was fully aware of was the historical hate against the Irish – a.k.a., me. Beyond that, we occasionally heard about mafia violence in the city when things got bad between the families, and once in a while we heard about gang-on-gang violence down in New York City, but that was the extent to which I saw race. When I moved to Atlanta, I didn't even realize that me and my Irish self were part of the minority in my new neighborhood, until someone pointed it out to me via the Tupac Sprite ad.

Hatred between people because of the color of their skin was a thing of the past, I thought. Something you read about in history books or heard about from your parents once in a while. Now hatred is only based on bad blood between rival families, right?

The last few days are starting to shatter the looking-glass between my Wonderland, and America.

The Fall

Nine days ago we celebrated this country. We shot off fireworks, we wore the colors of our nation. We were happy, we were proud. But with the deaths of these two civilians and five officers, that happiness and pride has died as well.