I finally saw "Selma" last weekend. I'd delayed because I didn't want to see it in a crowded movie theater. I figured it would leave me tearful and angry — which it did.
It was painful to see such hatred directed at people whose only offenses were the color of their skin and having the audacity to demand that the government protect their right to vote.
I could imagine my mother, my aunts and my uncles in that crowd of marchers trying to outrun billy clubs and tear gas in a city not far from the Alabama farm where they'd grown up.
The film was a visceral reminder of the costs borne by my parents' generation for a civil right that we now seem to take for...