“You are not black; this doesn’t concern you!” I have heard/ read that sentence so many times this past week, it almost seems meaningless. It wasn’t always meaningless. The first time I read that on one of those sketchy handles on twitter, I had to make some serious efforts to reach deep inside my brain and make sense of it. The y were simple words, simple grammatical structure; simple enough for an immigrant with English as her third language to comprehend otherwise but somehow, I didn’t understand. I didn’t understand if the person was being factual, assumptive, cruel, condescending or just flat out ignorant. I still don’t know the answer to that but what I know is, after having several episodes of knots in my throat trying to hold back my tears and then several episodes of letting it go and wailing, I AM A “PERSON” BEFORE A PERSON OF COLOR, PERSON OF GENDER, PERSON OF SEXUAL ORIENTATION, MARITAL STATUS, SOCIAL STATURE and whatever else tags along. This is one of the few times
I got a new pillow today; nothing fancy, a $5 one from Gabe’s. But my little heart is so excited, it is uncanny. The concept of playing an adult is stigmatized as it is. Work like crazy to be able to afford dumb things like toilet paper and bottled water but it doesn’t have to be that way. With history of depression and an ungodly amount of desire to never get to a point of needing medication again, it is mandatory for me to look for joys in little things. Little things like an accidental curly fry (HIMYM reference ;) ), a whooping $5 pillow, a parking spot 2 feet closer ..... just anything. Easier said than done, but we can sure as hell TRY. Like that one time you were so upset the jar of Nutella was practically empty but then you swirled a cup of coffee in it and made a hazelnut iced coffee; if you hadn’t done that yet, you are a proud owner of this fabulous idea btw; but point being: TREAT YO’ SELF (parks and rec reference) for every little thing because it has to start somewher