Chapter 1
A Raw Cry for Racial Understanding in a Divided Nation
When Benjamin Watson posted his raw, emotional thoughts on Facebook following the Ferguson grand jury decision in November 2014, he had no idea his words would resonate with over 800,000 people. As a tight end for the New Orleans Saints, Watson wasn't a household name, yet his honest reflections on race in America-expressing anger, introspection, embarrassment, frustration, fear, confusion, sadness, sympathy, offense, hopelessness, hopefulness, and encouragement-struck a chord that transcended football. The post went viral not because Watson had all the answers, but because he articulated the complex emotions many Americans felt but couldn't express. "Under Our Skin" emerged from this viral moment, expanding on Watson's thoughts about how Americans with different skin tones relate to each other. In a nation where racial tensions continue to simmer and occasionally boil over, Watson's perspective as a black NFL player, husband, father, and Christian offers a unique window into America's most persistent social challenge.
Chapter 2
The Weight of Generational Memory in Black America
For Benjamin Watson, understanding race in America begins with his grandfather-affectionately called "Pop Pop"-who lived in a high-rise near the Watergate Hotel in Washington, D.C. Born in 1920, Pop Pop represented a living bridge between slavery and Watson's generation. His own grandfather was born in 1860, meaning Watson was just five generations removed from slavery. Growing up in Culpeper, Virginia, Pop Pop rebelled against racial limitations, once swimming in a whites-only pool that authorities later drained and refilled with "pure" water. His parents moved him to D.C. before his mid-teens, fearing for his safety in a town where burning crosses appeared on Saturday nights.
Despite living six decades after slavery's abolition, Pop Pop faced "separate but equal" facilities and workplace limitations. He warned his grandson that as a black person, "there's always a ceiling." Yet he also lived a full life-serving in the army, working at the Government Printing Office, bartending on the side, and pursuing his passions for golf and his forest-green Cadillac.
What many white Americans fail to understand is that for black Americans, slavery and its aftermath aren't distant history but lived memory passed through generations. When Pop Pop turned 35 in 1955-ninety years after slavery's official end-blacks still faced segregated facilities, neighborhoods, and schools. Rosa Parks hadn't yet refused to give up her bus seat. Those ninety years might seem like a long time, but they weren't enough to overcome centuries of injustice.
Even more importantly, slavery didn't truly end with the Thirteenth Amendment. A "neoslavery" era began with human trafficking, forced labor, Black Codes, Jim Crow laws, and KKK terrorism. Even today, segregation persists in schools, voting districts, prisons, housing, and churches-the most segregated institution in America. This historical continuity explains why many black Americans feel angry when told racial problems are solved, while simultaneously feeling frustrated when young people use systemic prejudice as an excuse for underachievement.
Chapter 3
The Seeds of Racism in Innocent Hearts
Children naturally notice racial differences from as early as preschool age, displaying an innate ability to recognize physical variations in appearance. However, the transformation of these innocent observations into racist attitudes stems entirely from their environment - through subtle cues from parents, peer interactions, media representation, and societal structures. Watson poignantly illustrates this through his childhood friendship with a white boy named Bert, with whom he spent idyllic summers fishing in creek beds, climbing trees, and exploring the wilderness around their homes. "Black and white didn't matter-only the blue skies of summer and the promise of adventure in every new day," he recalls, highlighting how children's natural state is one of openness and acceptance.
Yet this racial innocence can shatter in a single moment, as demonstrated by Watson's relationship with another white classmate, Andy. Their friendship, built on shared interests and genuine camaraderie, faced its defining test on Valentine's Day when Watson planned to give chocolates to Katie, a pretty blonde classmate who had caught his eye. Andy's casual but devastating comment-"Katie would like you if you were white"-served as Watson's first real confrontation with racial barriers, forever altering his perception of himself and his place in society.
That pivotal moment transformed Watson's world view. In his predominantly white school, he suddenly became acutely aware of his "differentness," seeing his blackness reflected in the sea of white faces surrounding him. Race was no longer just a neutral physical characteristic but a social barrier that could automatically disqualify him from certain experiences and opportunities. The friendship with Andy underwent a fundamental shift - what was once a bond of equality became a competitive arena where Watson felt compelled to prove himself, striving to outperform Andy in everything from athletic achievements to academic scores. Their relationship had become unconsciously racialized, with both boys unwittingly taking positions in a racial divide they were too young to fully comprehend.
As individuals mature, they gradually internalize the racial attitudes prevalent in their environment. These worldviews are shaped by family dynamics, personal encounters, media consumption, and the strong pull of group identity. People find themselves "taking sides" in racial debates not through careful consideration of facts or objective research, but through years of subtle conditioning and accumulated biases. This phenomenon creates what Watson terms "living-room racists" - individuals who maintain public facades of racial tolerance while harboring and expressing prejudices in private settings, readily jumping to racial conclusions when interpreting events, even when evidence suggests alternative explanations.
The true challenge of racism extends far beyond obvious expressions of hate, such as Dylann Roof's horrific murder of black church members in Charleston. While such extreme acts are easy to condemn, focusing solely on these obvious manifestations of racism prevents us from addressing the more pervasive, subtle forms of racial bias that exist within mainstream society. The real problem lies not just with extremists at society's margins, but within the daily thoughts, reactions, and unconscious biases that most people carry - regardless of their race or conscious beliefs about equality.
Chapter 4
The Dignity of Peaceful Resistance vs. The Shame of Riots
The 1965 Selma to Montgomery march represents a pivotal moment when black Americans nonviolently confronted systemic injustice-fighting for voting rights that existed on paper but not in practice. It's hard to believe that in the same decade men walked on the moon, black Americans still faced Jim Crow laws, segregation, and police brutality. The film "Selma" shows how marchers, initially beaten back on "Bloody Sunday," persisted despite violence. What changed the equation was television broadcasting these horrors nationwide, horrifying white Americans. When they tried again, protected by federal forces, the march swelled from 2,000 to 50,000 people-both black and white-by the time they reached Montgomery.
The true heroes weren't just Dr. King but ordinary African Americans who responded to violence with nonviolence, to hate speech with prayer, maintaining their dignity despite being treated as subhuman. Comparing these dignified images with Ferguson's riots and looting embarrasses Watson as a black man-while he understands the pain of perceived injustice, destroying property confirms the worst stereotypes and undoes the progress those peaceful marchers fought for fifty years ago.
Television played a crucial role in the civil rights movement, broadcasting police brutality in Selma to the nation. But media can cut both ways. Just five months after Selma's success, the Watts riots erupted in Los Angeles, with TV broadcasting images of black neighborhoods in flames. These violent images, followed by more riots in Newark and Detroit in 1967, widened the racial divide and ultimately helped elect Richard Nixon on his "law-and-order" platform.
Today's media landscape is even more problematic-not just TV news but cell phone videos, uncensored social media, and shouting-match debates that report in fragments without context. In Ferguson, both mainstream and social media fueled the fires, with speculation presented as fact and talking heads reducing complex issues to simplistic debates. This media environment pushes us to opposite corners, entrenches our positions, and makes us seek facts that fit our assumptions rather than pursuing nuanced truth.
Chapter 5
The Fear Black Americans Feel Toward Police
White people cannot comprehend the fear black people feel toward police. This fear is supported by both historical and current events-from James Craig Anderson being hunted down and run over in Jackson, Mississippi in 2011, to Walter Scott being shot in the back over a missing taillight. At Walter Scott's vigil, state representative Wendell Gilliard compared the killing to deer hunting, saying "This is America's problem."
The list of victims continues: twelve-year-old Tamir Rice shot while holding a BB gun, John Crawford III killed in Walmart holding a pellet gun for sale, Eric Garner choked to death, Jonathan Ferrell shot after seeking help following an accident, Amadou Diallo shot 19 times while holding his wallet, and Michael Brown. One website documents at least 76 people of color killed by police between 1999-2014, though statistics are incomplete and hotly debated between political sides.
Watson wrote on Facebook after the Ferguson decision, begging young black men to obey police officers for their own safety. But he understands why the word "obey" is problematic-it echoes slavery, Black Codes, and segregation-era commands. To black people, "obey" is a loaded word, recalling historical oppression. Despite this, Watson believes black people must learn to comply with police officers to save their own lives.
The broader issue is a general lack of respect for authority that begins in homes where parents fail to instill this value. As a father, Watson fears for black men who run from police because they will likely be shot. Cincinnati Police Chief Jeffrey Blackwell, who is black, acknowledges this cultural disconnect and admits having the same fear for his own son. A former NFL player friend told Watson he instructs his son to do whatever officers say, even if they're wrong, because "Daddy has money for bail." This is what Watson will tell his children-it's not fair, but it's the world we have.
Chapter 6
The Dehumanizing Power of Racial Slurs and Stereotypes
Despite their hero status in sports, black athletes frequently face racial slurs and degrading treatment. Michigan quarterback Devin Gardner's experience exemplifies this reality - he received hundreds of racist tweets questioning whether a black man could effectively play quarterback, a position traditionally associated with leadership and intelligence. Similar incidents occurred with Cam Newton and Lamar Jackson, whose abilities were constantly scrutinized through a racial lens. For black players, such name-calling becomes almost expected, though never less painful. In stadiums filled with mostly white faces, they sometimes wonder if they're merely entertainment, like in the circuses of old - a modern version of gladiatorial spectacle.
The N-word's dehumanizing history makes its use particularly offensive, whether from ignorance or overt racism. Its origins in slavery and continued use during Jim Crow demonstrate its role as a tool of oppression and psychological violence. Even in seemingly minor interactions, like when white shuttle drivers at training camp carefully omit the N-word when reciting rap lyrics around black players, there's an uncomfortable acknowledgment of the word's enduring power. Though some argue blacks have "reclaimed" the word as a form of empowerment, Watson firmly rejects this justification. The N-word remains a hateful symbol of white supremacist terrorism and slavery's legacy, carrying centuries of trauma that make it inappropriate for anyone to use.
While it's easy to condemn obvious racial hatred - internet trolls, white supremacist manifestos, or anonymous online comments - the real problem of racial offense exists in everyday America: living rooms, classrooms, workplaces, and stadiums where casual, ignorant assumptions about race persist and shape daily interactions. These microaggressions, though less obvious than outright slurs, create a constant undercurrent of alienation and otherness.
As a black student in mostly white schools, Watson experienced firsthand how racial stereotypes shape expectations and opportunities. At field day events, people automatically expected him to win races simply because he was black, even though several white classmates were equally talented runners. This assumption extended beyond athletics - in college, he faced persistent stereotypes that he was only there for sports, not academics. He sometimes found himself comparing SAT scores to prove he "deserved" his place, though this defensive response quickly labeled him as having an "attitude problem." He witnessed black athletes being subtly steered toward "easier" majors like communications or general studies, while white teammates received guidance and encouragement toward more challenging and promising career paths in business, engineering, or pre-med programs. These differential expectations and guidance systems created invisible barriers that perpetuated racial disparities in educational outcomes.
Chapter 7
Between Hopelessness and Hope: The Racial Reality Today
The eighteen months surrounding Watson's Ferguson Facebook post were marked by tragic events: Eric Garner's death during arrest in Staten Island, Michael Brown's shooting by Officer Darren Wilson, violent riots after the grand jury decision, Walter Scott's shooting in North Charleston, the murder of nine black churchgoers in Charleston by a white supremacist, and further riots on the anniversary of Brown's death. Watson's father observed that racial tensions were "as bad as I've seen it since the '60s."
Though some things have improved across three generations in Watson's family-with greater opportunities and education access than in his grandfather's time-persistent inequalities remain: wage gaps, educational disparities, and continued segregation. The mirror-image parallels between the 1960s and today leave many feeling hopeless.
Despite hopes for progress, the evidence is discouraging: research shows millennials harbor similar racial biases as their baby-boomer parents; white supremacy groups are multiplying rather than declining; anti-black prejudice has actually increased since Obama's election; and nearly one million black people remain incarcerated-43% of the prison population despite being only 13.2% of the general population. The racial divide perpetuates itself: mass incarceration removes black men from their families, which leads to family disintegration and absent fathers, creating sons who grow up to repeat the cycle.
Ta-Nehisi Coates' memoir "Between the World and Me" challenges white America's sentimentality about racial resolution. In one telling moment, after Coates explained systemic racism during a TV interview, the host showed a photo of a black boy hugging a white police officer and asked about "hope"-revealing America's desire for easy solutions to complex problems. Watson shares Coates' frustration with those who claim "there is no racism" or who seek cheap, sentimental resolutions.
Yet Watson also sees genuine reasons for hope. Looking back across generations to ancestors who lived during slavery and the Civil War, he recognizes significant progress despite recent tragedies. We've largely overcome separate-but-equal practices-Watson doesn't have to use segregated facilities like his grandparents did. We have voting rights secured by those who marched in the 1960s. White flight has dramatically decreased from 44 percent in 1958 to just one percent by 1998. Most blacks and whites now claim friends of different races.
Chapter 8
The Spiritual Dimension of America's Racial Problem
Watson finds it curious that people quickly recognize evil in events like the Charleston church massacre yet question God's existence. What lies beneath our skin problem in America is spiritual. When we reduce others to stereotypes or focus on another's skin, we miss our own sin. This isn't about religion but acknowledging our individual wrongdoing and prejudice. From God's perspective, we've all fallen short-Darren Wilson, Michael Brown, Watson himself, and everyone else.
Racism stems from elevating our inherited characteristics over others', assuming difference means inferiority. This is factually wrong-we're all 99.9 percent genetically identical. During a dermatologist appointment, Watson asked about hair product differences for blacks and whites. The doctor explained: "Hair is just hair. Under a microscope, all skin and hair follicles are basically the same. The only difference is melanin amount." It's astonishing that melanin-simply the pigment giving skin, hair and eyes their color-has caused such profound suffering in America. Race is a figment of our melanin; our differences are cultural, not genetic.
We all inherited a sin nature from birth. Children don't need to learn to be bad-they're naturally selfish and rebellious. This sin nature continues into adulthood, keeping us in bondage. When discussing justice for others, we must remember the justice we deserve in God's eyes. We're quick to point out others' wrongdoing while avoiding the word "sin"-perhaps because it implicates ourselves. The soil racism grows from is sin itself.
Watson's hope lies in God's transformative power-only through Him can our hearts change from within, producing changed behavior and a changed society. Grace bridges the racial divide one heart at a time. Consider John Newton, the white British slave trader who wrote "Amazing Grace" after his conversion. Throughout his book, Watson discusses people who did wrong in racial incidents, calling for justice. Yet we fail to see our own sin and the justice we deserve. God's justice equation is simple: sin equals punishment and death. But through confession and faith in Christ comes forgiveness.
Chapter 9
Moving Forward: Practical Steps Toward Healing
Acknowledging sin, repenting, and experiencing God's grace are just first steps in bridging the racial divide. Faith without works is dead-God's work within should prompt action in the world around us. Meaningful change requires personal, ongoing involvement, not just symbolic gestures or feel-good moments. There are four arenas where we can focus our efforts: personal, family, church, and nation.
We must intentionally seek relationships across racial lines. In our segregated society, natural opportunities are limited, especially for white people to befriend black people. We need to be deliberate-through work connections, our children's schools, community projects, or attending diverse churches. While research suggests these friendships don't statistically improve the racial divide, Watson believes that's because they're often too superficial or too rare. Genuine cross-racial friendships build understanding and acceptance, as he's experienced on football teams.
Today's children will steer tomorrow's culture. We have a brief window to teach them right from wrong, as they absorb our every look, comment, and action on race. When Watson's daughter saw racial incidents on CNN, she began praying for Baltimore and Charleston every night. As parents, we must be honest with our children, giving them facts not just opinions. These challenging conversations are opportunities to steer them toward bridging racial divides and emphasize how we all need forgiveness.
Our churches remain largely segregated, with church planting often directed by demographic research that rarely places new churches in mixed-race neighborhoods. Yet one exception, Apostles Church in St. Louis, was intentionally planted on the Delmar Divide between wealthy, 70% white neighborhoods and poor, 98% black neighborhoods. Pastor Todd Genteman believes discipleship can bridge this divide, saying "We need to stand with Jesus and break down the dividing walls of hostility."
Though we may feel individually powerless, we underestimate what God can do through us. Prayer isn't a soft solution to a hard racial problem-it's one of the most powerful actions we can take to overcome racism. Prayer has ignited revival before and can again. We must pray for victims' and perpetrators' families, for communities where tensions exist, for those we blame, for specific divine guidance, for wisdom among lawmakers, for law enforcement safety, for awareness of our own thoughts and reactions, for courage to stand against racism even from friends and family, for clarity to call wrong "wrong" and right "right," and for God's healing hand on America.
Chapter 10
A Father's Letter to the Future
With his fifth child due soon after writing this book, Watson penned an intimate and heartfelt letter expressing his deepest hopes and sobering fears for his daughter's future. He begins by acknowledging the inherent beauty of God's creation while confronting the harsh realities that have distorted it. With raw honesty, he warns his unborn daughter that she will face prejudice and discrimination because of her skin tone - a burden he's experienced firsthand. He explains how her brothers may be unfairly perceived as "threatening" simply walking down the street, while she might be tokenized as an "exception" by well-meaning whites or face criticism from within the black community for being "Boojie" (bourgeois).
Watson delves into the complex dynamics of racial identity, emphasizing that the solution isn't found in bitter resentment or denial. Instead, he guides his daughter toward a profound spiritual truth: her own heart, like all human hearts, needs redemption just as much as those who might mistreat her. He encourages her to pursue justice with wisdom and grace, to forgive without excusing wrongdoing, and to see people as complex individuals rather than representatives of groups. Through personal anecdotes, he illustrates how stereotypes can be both internalized and overcome.
The letter weaves together stories of her heritage, highlighting figures like Frederick Douglass, Fannie Lou Hamer, and other lesser-known individuals who demonstrated courage in bridging racial divides. These examples serve as powerful reminders that progress often comes through those willing to stand firm in their convictions while extending grace to others. Watson acknowledges that righteous anger has its place - citing biblical examples like Jesus overturning tables in the temple - but emphasizes that sustained change comes through channeling that anger constructively.
Looking to the future, Watson expresses cautious optimism that her generation might tackle racial issues with greater honesty and nuance than previous ones. He envisions a path forward that doesn't require choosing between addressing racism and pursuing reconciliation. Instead, he advocates for a both/and approach: maintaining high standards of justice while extending grace, acknowledging historical wrongs while building bridges, and recognizing systemic issues while fostering personal relationships. The letter concludes by grounding these hopes in the transformative power of God's love, suggesting that true healing begins with individual hearts being changed through divine intervention, rippling outward to transform communities and institutions.
