I love a good media drama. Like a moth to a flame, or perhaps more accurately like a fly to dog poo, I am drawn to it. I check the news multiple times a day. I scoff at outlets that don’t deem it worthy of the front page. I also scoff at outlets that do. A media drama can antagonize me the way Adele disappoints me with her popularity.

The fact that I’m part of a Titanic-obsessed gaggle of netizens somehow has me convinced I’m not just procrastinating. Five men with money — sums of it — on their way to Titanic in a little titanium box, are lost at sea. To empathize, the world holds her breath.

This morning I got acquainted with the immigrant anxiety felt by Chinese-American journalist Jiayang Fan about her desire to speak accentless English. In an episode of one of my favorite podcasts, This American Life, Jiayang participated in a game show designed around a talent she claims to possess: the unique ability, inspired by her anxiety, to tell at what age a Chinese-American person came to the United States. The show gave her recordings of three people to prove herself. (She got 0 out of 3.)

The other day, as I was speaking about a group of queer Black designers of which I’m a part, a White lesbian asked me: “when does a group exist just so a bunch of outcasts can commiserate about their shared otherness? I mean, could someone like me join?”

“Great questions,” I said, “my response is identical to what you would say if someone went ‘why do you need lesbian bars? You don’t see me going to a straight bar, do you?’”

• I am a Black person with privilege
• My privilege makes me uncomfortable
• I don’t want to think about racism
• My childhood experiences did more damage than I realized
• There are so many things I’ve said “yes” to that required a “no”

Sometimes I
feel that I am
a
bad
Black
girl
because whenever
my white girlfriend
and I sift through
Netflix
Prime Video
or anything
with a reasonable trial
period
and she says “let’s
watch this
movie or that”
featuring Black stories
I instead
elect to watch a white
narrative
because it’s nice
to forget
about
racism
and the teacher
who called me
a monkey
and
the no one
who called him
out
and
being a bit
Black
and being
a bit
white

Steer clear of Adidas; obtain a degree in Dutch language and literature; wear my aunt’s glasses until I eventually need my own prescription; don’t eat fried chicken; proclaim I’m a fan of Michel Houellebecq; don’t go to a black hair salon; enrol in theological seminary; don’t listen to RnB; date a person blacker than me; date a person whiter than me; don’t eat watermelon; say I’m ‘accidentally black’ because my mother met my father while on vacation and I missed by only an inch the opportunity to be born to a white father who was a doctor, by the way; eat bananas only after I cut them into bite-size chunks that I eat with a fork, just to make sure I don’t remind anyone of a monkey; don’t listen to rap music; learn difficult words.