The glorious thing about being a white man in America is never having to undergo any kind of reevaluation of your sense of self; you can live your entire life without reflecting on the privileges you possess and how it effects the people around you who do not. Honestly though, what is the point of advocating for groups with whom you do not directly engage? No matter how well-meaning you are and how valorous your intentions, it comes down to self-glorification.
Passion makes for great art, and unlike the perfection of "Hope" in 2008, you won't find any of that here. "Damaged" lacks the necessary introspection of the complexity and contradictions of our time, and what was effective during that period of optimism and complacency is just totally unpalatable, even naive, now. Plus, these days street art is another corporate sales tactic, and our political art of choice is the meme. But his simplistic art of reduction has a sweeping populist appeal that trumps that of Barbara Kruger, an artist infinitely more incisive, intellectual, assertive, and clever.
There's a line of his that I cut that I wish I hadn't: “There are plenty of things that have gone from being seen as very transgressive to very valuable; Impressionism was heretical when it started.” Totally, and its place in history is firmly cemented in the 19th-century. So how silly would you look trying to present impressionist painting to the world right now? Stale stale stale. Read about it at The Guardian.