I was one of the first to arrive at Alton Sterling’s funeral. Thousands were expected on that Friday, so Southern University, my alma mater, had hosted the funeral at the F.G. Clark Activity Center. Walking towards the door, all the memories I had of wild undergraduate times—sneaking away from dorms past curfew, caught up in some silly drinking game—came flooding back. They gave me comfort, even at this sorrowful time.
