I am disgusted by the careless way you condemn a race, by your spiteful death wishes to those you have never met, nor ever will. But I find myself unable to blame you for your mannerisms. You laugh and tell me about your father’s casual use of a racial slur at the dinner table, surrounded by your prototypical family. Your mother, acting scandalized, your brother and sister confused, but you, always you, agreeing with your father because He, the one who taught you how to catch, to build model airplanes, to ride a bike; He, who indirectly showed you how to hate; He who closed your mind and fenced off the possibilities you had, the greatness you could have achieved. .. He will always be right. Swallowing my logic and hostility, I am left only with sympathy and pain over the loss of a friend: the you I would have known if you had been raised without the constant presence of a father whose only prerogative is to form you into a clone of who he is, who he believes everyone should be. The lurking malevolence of racism and religious segregation that has formed you into the bull-headed, malicious being you are today. I clench my teeth and choke down words of grief for the innocence that has been slain by patriarchal ignorance, as I know nothing I say will matter. How could I ask you to choose the godless, hell-bound cretin you believe me to be over your father? How could I…