Imagine.

Today, I heard a(n old, White) man say to a group of people that he’d never met before, “He lost his mother at a young age and went to live in an orphanage,” (about a dead man they were supposed to look up to) “and you can imagine how difficult that must have been.”

It struck me how little imagination this (old, White) man must have had, to think that they would have to imagine. To think that none of them had ever gone through something similar. To think that everyone’s experience must mirror his own.

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