One morning last week, a photograph made me mad. It sounds odd to say it that way, but that's the way it felt. It wasn't the image itself that annoyed me. It was the way it was used and the messages it sent. A photograph can show a truth and yet contain within it a monstrous lie. Sometimes those lies are about people like me.

On the morning after the third night of nationwide protests against the agonizingly public murder of George Floyd, an unarmed and handcuffed black man, by Derek Chauvin, a white Minneapolis police officer, I called up a newspaper's website and braced for the worst. As we all know by now, the video of Chauvin choking the life