At Rest

One of the reasons why I love to travel is the feeling of being a visitor. When I'm a visitor, it's acceptable to feel like I don't fit in. I am not embarrassed by getting lost or mispronouncing a name. I expect to be treated like an outsider. With the recent racism renaissance, perhaps not initiated by but definitely given momentum by Trump's hate campaign, I feel like an outsider in my own country. The pain is often unbearable. I ran from it as long as I could. Now, I'm broke and tired.

One of my passengers asked my opinion of Kaepernick's protests. Of course, he was white. I told him, just as I tell anyone,  that the man is an adult. He has the right to do what he is doing. I don't have to like it or dislike it. He is bringing energy and attention to a very important issue. The ignorant statements surfacing en masse are not surprising. Those are what make me angry. The time for change is upon us. Instead of resisting and opposing it, which is a waste since it's inevitable, help shape it. There is room for everyone to have their fears heard and addressed. If people only listened to each other. I mean REALLY listened, like they do with someone they love and want to help. If we only did that, this would be a much better world for all.

Meanwhile, at home, Mom asked when the white host was going to be back on the funny videos show. Apparently, she thought Alfonso was a temp. Yup, it's even in my own house. It's weird to be the black child of a racist Asian parent. She doesn't like to look at dark-skinned people on TV. It's been forty-two years of this shit. I don't even try anymore. What's the damn point?