.jpg)
![The 11 Best Landing Page Builder Software Tools [2025]](https://www.growthmarketingpro.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/best-landing-page-software-hero-image-1024x618.png?#)
![Social media image sizes for all networks [May 2025]](https://blog.hootsuite.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/01/Social-Media-Image-Sizes-2023.png)
YET HERE I AM
Early on in his memoir, Capehart, best known as a commentator for MSNBC and as an editorial writer for the Washington Post, writes of being known among his Southern cousins as “Mr. Peabody,” the bookishly bespectacled cartoon dog. “And I was a little ‘funny,’” he adds. “That was the gentler f-bomb used for someone believed to be gay back then.” Raised in New Jersey, Capehart writes of being one of the few, if not the only, Black students in his classes, which, accompanied by annual holidays in North Carolina, gave him a precisely contoured understanding of race and racism: “Blackness is always at the mercy of someone else’s judgment. You can be too Black, not Black enough, or not Black at all….Some Black people are eager to take away my Black card. Some white people would rather I not mention my race at all.” A pointed lesson came from his mother, who prophesied that his friendships with white children would turn unequal as the years went by. Sadly, this came to pass, and, despite an elite education and plum jobs in journalism, he would learn that “education and money offer no real protection from racism.” Another pointed lesson came decades later, when Capehart resigned from the Washington Post editorial board after he realized that he would never quite be received as the “interlocutor between Blacks and whites” that he hoped to be: “And once again, it felt like the whiter world let me know where it believed my place to be.” Fortunately, Capehart has refused to accept silence, so that his voice, calmly defiant, is still heard outside the confines of this welcome book.
Early on in his memoir, Capehart, best known as a commentator for MSNBC and as an editorial writer for the Washington Post, writes of being known among his Southern cousins as “Mr. Peabody,” the bookishly bespectacled cartoon dog. “And I was a little ‘funny,’” he adds. “That was the gentler f-bomb used for someone believed to be gay back then.” Raised in New Jersey, Capehart writes of being one of the few, if not the only, Black students in his classes, which, accompanied by annual holidays in North Carolina, gave him a precisely contoured understanding of race and racism: “Blackness is always at the mercy of someone else’s judgment. You can be too Black, not Black enough, or not Black at all….Some Black people are eager to take away my Black card. Some white people would rather I not mention my race at all.” A pointed lesson came from his mother, who prophesied that his friendships with white children would turn unequal as the years went by. Sadly, this came to pass, and, despite an elite education and plum jobs in journalism, he would learn that “education and money offer no real protection from racism.” Another pointed lesson came decades later, when Capehart resigned from the Washington Post editorial board after he realized that he would never quite be received as the “interlocutor between Blacks and whites” that he hoped to be: “And once again, it felt like the whiter world let me know where it believed my place to be.” Fortunately, Capehart has refused to accept silence, so that his voice, calmly defiant, is still heard outside the confines of this welcome book.
