Hope

     A writer hopes to contribute something relevant to the world, by way of social, political or basic human insight.  However, recently I've observed that my insights might not be completely welcome, based on my being a white male.  I write (and live) under the assumption that all humans draw from the same reservoir of emotions.  Some humans, most unfortunately, have had occasion to experience certain emotions much more deeply and more often.  Should I not attempt a projection of that experience in an effort to offer insight?  If not, then I'm trapped into either offending or rendering my efforts irrelevant.
     It's not lost on me that perhaps being silenced when I feel I need to speak is an experience I'm long overdue in having (along with the other white males).  I'm just terrified at the idea that art is no longer something we can all, at some level, share.