When I was 14 years old, I worked as a bag boy at Meijer's. One night, I listened to a customer talking on the phone while in line, during which he repeated the phrase "holler at your boy" somewhere between seven to eight times.
As a young, white, suburban teenager, I tried to imagine what this statement could possibly mean, and after several weeks of pondering, the drawing that would become this shirt was the best I could come up with.
Today, I am a 22 year-old white, suburban adult with with a handful of black friends, and this drawing from eight years ago is still the closest I have come to understanding what the hell they are talking about.
Holler at your boy.
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