I was born to an Irish father and a Hispanic mother. My name is very Irish but I favor my mother’s looks. Either way, to most of the world I just look “white.” Ironically, the only time I remember being racially slurred was when my mother cut straight across my black bangs and a kid in junior high believed I was Chinese. I tried to explain but he didn’t get it. In short, I don’t know what it’s like to be a racial minority. I don’t know how it feels to be discriminated against on a daily basis because of the color of my skin. There is really no way for me to fully understand or empathize with a black person in America. But, there was this one time where I had an encounter with police power. It was one of the scariest 20 minutes of my life and it briefly gave me a window into how discrimination might feel. At a minimum, it showed me how intimidating a confrontation with the police can…