When I was a college basketball player, some believed we were treated differently from other Black and Brown people. An event last weekend suggests otherwise
I
t was 1996, my first day stepping foot on Syracuse University’s campus. I saw a big student protest was taking place so, with my freshman’s inquisitive mind, I ventured over to see what was going on.
I listened to a passionate sista named Kathy Ade, the president of Syracuse’s student African-American Society. She stood there with her Bantu knots and a megaphone addressing the crowd, discussing the fact that campus security was now going to be able to carry pepper spray. In the 90s – which my daughter Baby Sierra calls “the 1900s,” just to keep me humble – campus security carrying pepper spray was a big deal. Now, they all carry guns.
The fear was that they’d use the spray on Black and Brown students without hesitation, at the slightest perceived sign of trouble.
