I live in a weird space for a black femme. I went all in to tech and business during my 20’s and early 30’s. I am very skilled at: understanding how to emulate a white nan and please him. I have learned what he likes and doesn’t. I observe his fantasies and pretend I too share those fantasies. I observe his jokes and I pretend to like those jokes too. I wear a mask every day that looks so much like him I struggle to find my own skin behind that mask.

When I wake up in the morning I see his face in my mirror. I have learned the whole world from these eyes. Why do I spend my life like that? So maybe you think I’m one of you and don’t attack me. Now, knowing that.... can you say you have “done enough” when it comes to racism? If you sit at work knowing your colleagues are just faking it for your benefit. Is that freedom to you? Is it freedom to me?

So... why is it knowing all we do and know... that you form your mouth to tell us anything about anything on the topic of us experiencing what we do? How can you, the unmasked, the actual image of the mask tell anyone what it’s like to wear it? There is so much you don’t see around yourself. So oblivious. It’s alright to be honest that you don’t know what all is happening. It’s not cool to pretend you do in order to silence black femmes.

I think... where I’m going with this is... I am a person who likes a lot of the same stuff you like now. Like my name is from a very popular mostly white dude video game. My instance is named after a black philosophy that has somehow also put on a mask. Well.. ...