People expect black women to be angry, irrationally so, without reason. They think we are animals and we go around like the Wild Things.

Where is the safest place when that place / must be someplace other than in the body?

For me her image, the triptych, became a study of the weight the black male figure carries, given the fact that they are targeted by the police, and are constantly in danger of being misread in public spaces.

I also found it funny to think about blackness as the second person. That was just sort of funny. Not the first person, but the second person, the other person.

I asked a lot of friends and people I'd meet, "Can you tell me a story of a micro-aggression that happened to you in a place you didn't expect it to happen?" I wasn't interested in scandal, or outrageous moments. I was interested in the surprise of the intimate, or the surprise of the ordinary.

If you admit to being racist, it says you acknowledge that you are being driven by projections and stereotypes that were formed in the creation of our country. Racism is deeply rooted in America.

If you make a mistake, then you should own that mistake.