I am invisible, understand, simply because people refuse to see me. I am not invisible. I am a shadow. That is why white people with whom I work, people with whom I laugh and joke and trade stories, can pass me on the street or in some other unexpected venue and not recognize me. Out of context, out of safe surroundings, I am but one among a cast of dark shadows.
Shadows are insubstantial.
They are inconsequential. But they are menacing. They loom disproportionately large. Light from the right angle in a darkened bedroom makes a teddy bear a grizzly. All black men speak the same language.