"55 mph Means You Black Man

How six words, one classroom, and a decade of unrest still teach America what it refuses to learn

Editorial note: The events referenced here are drawn from public record and national reporting between 2010 and 2014. Because they remain part of our collective memory, I’ve set aside formal citations to keep the focus on story and reflection.

I was first aware of the Race Card Project on May 1, 2013. That was the date that Dr. Gregory McGriff appeared on NPR’s Morning Edition to share his six-word essay: “55 mph means you black man.”

The Race Card Project, launched on NPR in 2010 by journalist Michele Norris, invited people to write their thoughts, observations, frustrations, hopes, laments, etc. about “race” in six words.

Having just started a unit on the novel, To Kill a Mockingbird, I realized that I could use McGriff’s words to open a meaningful discussion about the novel’s themes around race, inequality and empathy. When I wrote Dr. McGriff’s six-word essay on the board, my racially diverse class of 30 was neatly divided in their understanding of his meaning.

The discussion was lively, with my black and Latino students explaining to the rest of the class the necessary caution of black men to behave within prescribed limits, not only on the highway, but in society in general. At fourteen years old, my students of color were already keenly aware of the danger they faced, and my white students were soon enlightened. After writing their own six-word essays, student conversation revealed the self-reflection about race that I had hoped my students would achieve.

In 2010, the year that Michele Norris started the Race Card Project, policing and racial profiling were under scrutiny around the country. Her project was a unique approach to shaping the resulting conversation around race and empathy. Yet, the tension only grew, and the years between 2010 and 2014 would see the birth of a national movement - a movement the current administration has tried to erase or replace with a racist, white Christian Nationalist ideology. (See my Madmotherwrites Sept. 23 SubStack, Christo -Fascism Comes for Democracy)

2010 - 2011: Policing and Racial Profiling Under Scrutiny

In Arizona, the “Show me Your Papers” immigration law allowed police to demand proof of citizenship during stops if they suspected someone was undocumented. Civil rights groups denounced it as racial profiling targeting Latinos.

At the same time, New York City’s stop-and-frisk policy resulted in over 685,000 stops in 2011 - mostly involving black and Latino men. The policy became a national symbol of racially biased policing.

The 2010 trial of BART officer Johannes Mehserle for killing unarmed 22-year-old Oscar Grant in Oakland reignited outrage over police impunity.

And, that same year, the NAACP passed a 2010 resolution condemning “racist elements” within the Tea Party, fueling political polarization around race.

2012: The Birth of a Movement

By 2012, organization, corporations, educators and activists were working to promote equity and empathy, even as a counterforce was visibly gathering strength to challenge hard-won civil rights.

In February, 2012, 17-year-old Trayvon Martin, a black teenager, was shot and killed by neighborhood watch volunteer George Zimmerman in Sanford, Florida. Zimmerman’s acquittal in July 2013 exposed America’s deep racial bias in “stand your ground” laws and in the nation’s perception of young black men. The protests that followed led to the founding of #BlackLivesMatter by Alicia Garza, Patrisse Cullors, and Opal Tometi.

2013: Supreme Court Rolls Back Civil Rights

Adding to national tension in 2013, the Supreme Court struck down Section 4(b) of theVoting Rights Act of 1965 in Shelby County v. Holder. The removal of federal oversight allowed states to immediately enact voter ID laws and purges that disproportionately affected Black voters.

Amid this backdrop, Michele Norris won a Peabody Award for the Race Card Project - recognition for fostering the kind of dialogue that many Americans were struggling to have. But, even as Norris was being honored for helping America talk about race, the nation itself was coming apart at the seams.

2014: The National Awakening

By 2014, the nation’s racial reckoning reached a fever pitch. The killings of Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri, and Eric Garner in New York ignited protests that spread from city streets to classrooms, from church pulpits to corporate boardrooms. Images of armored vehicles facing unarmed demonstrators, the chants of “Hands up, don’t shoot,” and the desperate plea “I can’t breathe” showed what my students already knew - America’s racial weren’t healed; they were still wide open.

Those years marked what many came to call a National Awakening—a collective recognition that the racial inequities long embedded in policing, education, housing, and opportunity hadn’t disappeared. The hashtags #BlackLivesMatter and #ICantBreathe became rallying cries for justice and humanity. Yet, as quickly as the movement for racial equity gained momentum, an organized backlash followed.

The Erosion of Equal Rights

Over the next decade, the steady erosion of equal rights betrayed the progress that had seemed within reach. The Shelby County decision opened the door to widespread voter suppression. Federal agencies that once monitored civil rights compliance were defunded or stripped of authority. Affirmative action was curtailed and the very word“equity” became politically charged, twisted by those who fear accountability for the injustices they perpetuate.

The same fear that fueled the backlash to Reconstruction now resurfaces in subtler forms, through new laws limiting diversity programs, bans on teaching “divisive concepts,” and the targeting of books that confront racial truth. Progress has always been met by resistance; what changes is only the vocabulary of denial.

The Race Card Project Now

Yet, amid that retreat from justice, Michele Norris’s Race Card Project endures as both witness and remedy. The project and its six-word submissions have been featured in NPR stories, on the project website, in print, etc. In 2024, her book, Our Hidden Conversations, revived the same spirit of empathy that first inspired me to use Dr. Gregory McGriff’s six-word essay in my classroom.

The project reminds us that even when the national conversation splinters, honest stories can still connect us. Each six-word reflection holds up a small mirror, showing what we carry - our fears, our assumptions, and our shared humanity. In a time when hostility runs high and trust runs low, six words can cut through the noise. They let us speak plainly when talk about race feels too hard or too risky. Six words can hold anger or hope, confession or truth. Real understanding begins with listening, not policy.

Maybe that’s why McGriff’s six words—“55 mph means you black man”—still stay with me after all these years. They describe more than a speed limit; they describe a lifetime of caution. And maybe, by putting our own truths into six words—honest, awkward, or raw—we can slow down long enough to hear one another. If we can do that, we might begin to find the common ground that still exists beneath all the noise.

Invitation:

Visit The Race and Project website to read others’ six-word reflections.

Then, write your own, and share it in the comments below.

Mad Mother’s six-word essay: Law says equal, streets say otherwise