You had to be living under a rock to not know about the tragic killings in Charleston last week. You had to be made of rock to not be repulsed by this evil act and not be moved by the response of the grieving family. That a young white man presumably targeted African Americans has raised the ugly specter of racism in America yet again. Much has been written about this, and numerous opinions have been expressed in the media. I've read some of the pieces, but deep down I feel like an outsider. I am not white. I am not black. I am also a first-generation American. It's not that I don't have prejudice lurking in my heart; we all do, if we are honest. But I have not had to bear the burden of history on my shoulders that has weighed down generation after generation. There is a deep wound in the psyche of this country, and layers and layers of painful scar tissue have built up over time as there have been attempts at healing only to have the injury inflicted again. I try t...