— I don’t want to hear “I can’t believe this.”

I want you to read up on the history you’ve had the privilege to ignore.

— I don’t want your opinions or thoughts.

I want you to listen to the Black experiences you’ve chosen to forget.

— I don’t want your #BLM Instagram story reposts.

I want screenshots of your bail out money donations and patronage of Black labor/art/knowledge.

— I don’t want your passive Twitter likes.

I want you to follow Black tragedies as much as you follow Black trends.

— I don’t want to vindicate your white guilt…

The other day I was writing in a coffee shop, and a man in a red flannel commented on a sticker on my laptop. “‘Careful or you will end up in my novel?’”

I was mid-sentence and caught off-guard. “Ah, yeah.. I’m a writer” And then the normal conversation follows:

Where do you go to school?

What do you like to read?

What do you write about?

And I told him about my essay collection about names and identity

“Well how do you define yourself?” he asked.

“Ha, that’s a short question that requires a long answer, but I guess…