Your reputation precedes you. Or, rather, your reputation precedes me. You were born with a bang, hot as fire, but not nearly as quick, and it has been a rather slow burn.
That bang came after one long day, which turned into one month, which turned into one year, and now, it feels like I blinked and, suddenly, you’re 15 months old. But we both know it wasn’t as quick as that, don’t we?
In the past weeks, I have heard news of deaths, of the spread of disease, conspiracy theories, the mass murders of house pets in China, the cancelling of major sports leagues, major vacations, and major events, the suspension of daycare programs, and I have heard of the spreading panic that has left our butts in fear of wipelessness…
“I was unsure if I could hang out with white kids, because I was seen as “too black” for them. In the same vein, I wasn’t sure if I could hang out with black kids, because I was seen as “too white”.
This often left me wondering if I would ever fit in with anyone. The difficult thing with race – and what I would find is most hard on children who are mixed-race – is that race is often viewed in boxes:
You must exist within one.”
A couple months ago, as I tried to get Valeria to bed, we flipped through a couple books, as usual, then laid down and switched the light off. Not long after that, she started to fuss. I checked her diaper, I checked that she wasn’t too warm or too cold, and I knew she wasn’t hungry.
I was at a loss, and so, it seemed, was she…
So, sometimes I make dinner. Sometimes. And when I make dinner, there are three things that my husband always seems to say:
1. It needs salt.
2. It needs lime.
3. It needs hot sauce.
If not, of course, some devilish combination of all three…