“GO ... go. Sonja — go!”
I hear my name, and sprint out into the middle of the projects. I’m supposed to kick the man in front of me, as hard as I can.
It’s a lot more difficult than I thought it would be. The reason I’m having trouble isn’t because I’m worried about hurting him. He’s wearing body pads.
He is an actor and in this sequence of events his character, a low-level drug dealer named Bodie, has just hit a cop. I’m playing a cop who’s supposed to rough him up — do anything it takes to defend my brethren.
But something about this scene turns my stomach. Really?? I gotta defend a cop — and like it?
If this were just acting, it would be a piece of cake. But the weight of it feels too heavy. I’m caught in some netherworld between my past and my present as I try to talk myself into this bit as quickly as I can.
[For more of this story, written by Sonja Sohn, go to http://www.nytimes.com/2015/05/03/opinion/sunday/baltimore-taught-me-about-hope.html]
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