At times it was quite painful that your whiteness, whether you liked it or not, followed you all the way through. Even when I was blown up afterwards, my white body counted for more than the bodies of black people who were blown up, who were tortured far more severely than I was tortured. The world, the press, the media, controlled by people — white themselves — seeing the world through white eyes. Not even maliciously, just automatically. That’s their standpoint, their point of reference. And so my amputation, my body counted for something. And then I had to think, “Well, what do I do about it?” And I said, “Well, it gives me access. It gives me a chance to speak.” The New York Times had a full page spread, “Broken But Unbroken,” with a lovely picture. At least I can be like an ambassador for all the others whose voices aren’t heard. I must use this space and opportunities that they’ve got, even if they come with a privilege, to fight for justice in our country. But at times it was painful, even in prison.