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When I was younger my mother used to tell me that I looked like Tiger Woods. I hadn’t yet had braces, and she thought our mouths and jaw bones looked similar. It probably didn’t hurt that Mom knew that Tiger was my favorite athlete—this was pre-scandal, back when he was almost everyone’s favorite athlete. My friend Zane always agreed with Mom’s assessment, but almost every other person laughed at the idea. How could a white nine year old boy look like a thirty year old black man?
Even though Tiger and I may have shared similar jaw lines, the truth is that there was always something that differentiated us: Tiger is black, and I’m white. I think the lesson my mother was trying to impart was, in the words of Martin Luther King, Jr., to not evaluate someone “by the color of their skin, but by their content of the character.”…
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