Box 3086

I love you.

But I’ve seen my mother give away every bit of self respect to men she’s loved. I watched her build herself back up when she left them, only to take them back in. And I can’t do that. I can’t.
I once made you promise to never say ”I love you” if you didn’t mean it. I’ve been sitting in this coffee shop since 3 am thinking about all the times I knew you were lying.

When white people tell me I “haven’t been alive for hundreds of years, so I can’t claim that oppression.”

Uh, everything I do, every breath I take, every step I take is under the weight of generations upon generations of oppression. EVERYthing I am exists in the context of hundreds of years of colonization and oppression. SO FUCK YOU, WHITEY!

Friend tells me there’s fried rice in the fridge.

It’s pilaf. :(

Can I just say?

I’m allowed to behave however I want to when I’m dealing with racism. I don’t have to approach with compassion. It’s not my job to educate white folks about the systems of oppression they and their ancestors have created/perpetuated. I’m willing to, most of the time. But if I want to stomp my feet and shout and cuss, I think my and my people’s centuries of colonization and oppression have earned me that right.

Showing my PoC friends my racism bingo and this white guy starts telling me how unfair it is, and how some of those things aren’t racism.

And I’m like…

And they don’t wanna listen, tryna tell me how everything is up for grabs and I’m being too sensitive and so I’m like

And they tell me other things are appropriating from white people and that the concept of the value of human life is appropriated from Christianity and then I’m just like

I am now 21 years old.

I’ll have all the booze, please.