In the once sleepy bedroom community of Ferguson, Missouri, the protests rage on daily. Not one day of rest or respite from the bongos banging, incessant chanting, or incoherent screaming for the beleaguered residents.
Priscilla Ward rails against the unintentional ignorance of white people yet refuses to be her real self with the whites in her life.
The tragedy of low expectations strikes again. Im referring to the lack of honest discussion surrounding the ills plaguing the blacks in America.
I’m a bit miffed, I’m not gonna lie.
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