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This Week in Business A handy, three-minute glance at the week ahead in companies, markets, regulation and investment, landing in your inbox every Monday morning. Green Times The New Statesman’s weekly environment email on the politics, business and culture of the climate and nature crises - in your inbox every Thursday. The New Statesman Daily The best of the New Statesman, delivered to your inbox every weekday morning. World Review The New Statesman’s global affairs newsletter, every Monday and Friday. Morning Call Quick and essential guide to domestic and global politics from the New Statesman's politics team. Sign up for The New Statesman’s newsletters Tick the boxes of the newsletters you would like to receive. I have seen how they survey a room they enter, knowing they have an inalienable right to fill that space as they see fit, no matter the circumstance. I have studied the confidence with which they walk, the shape of their squared shoulders, the almost unbearable firmness of their handshake. I have watched them mow their lawns and play softball on Thursday nights and drink beer and go to work each morning in their sensible suits and sensible shoes. For most of my life, I have lived in areas where I am the exception rather than the rule. I am a child of the suburbs and forgotten rural places. It would have been easy, I suppose, to imagine that all white men were like that: brute, taking what they wanted as if it were owed to them. There was the first boy I ever loved – golden-haired, blue-eyed – and then he and several other boys who were just like him did something terrible to me. They misunderstand equality as the destruction of one group instead of the salvation of another. They think that a passionate desire for equality rises from a place of hatred rather than from an abiding sense of fairness. They read my writing about race and gender and make assumptions.