WTF Is Passing???
WTF IS PASSING???
A not admitting of the wound
Until it grew so wide
that all my life had entered it
and there were troughs beside
a closing of the simple lid that
opened to the sun
until the tender carpenter
perpetual nail it down
Emily Dickinson
My girlfriend is writing.
She is both restless and concentrating at once.
She turns in her chair, she asks, “What do you people ask you again? When they ask you where are you from... what do they ask? How often do you think you get asked?”
I’m sure what she’s drafting will be beautiful, and will strike me when I read it; she is a thoughtful and brilliant writer. But I am taken aback by this question, I wasn’t expecting to be asked about these experiences.
I tell her, white people tell me I am white, brown
people insist I tell them I am brown.
