In Lemony Snicket’s famous series he wrote, “It‘s almost as if happiness is an acquired taste, like coconut cordial or ceviche, to which you can eventually become accustomed, but despair is something surprising each time you encounter it.”
To be clear, the dynamic holds little ability to incite despair.
But considering how the political climate continues to unearth the ugliness within many racialized quotidien relationships across the country, I find myself tired from suppressing the numbness birthed from the sadness.
Looking through it, I imagine if the closest she’s been to brown eyes and kinky hair is from behind her phone, ogling crass text on top of frivolously racist internet memes.
Nevertheless, I feel responsible for dismantling it brick by brick, in hopes of unveiling a contradiction.
I know I risk being toppled by truths I’m not sure I can handle at this distance, but that won’t keep me from cracking away at its masonry with each awkward interaction.
I do, after all, have to get to the door.
Global Studies and Communication